f*  Priuate^i 

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'groiodl  ©.  ,^P  Florence  I 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


AROUND  THE  FIRE 


AROUND  THE   FIRE 

of 


HANFORD   M.   BURR 

Author  of  "  Donald  McRea  " 


ILLUSTRATIONS    FROM    OLD    WOOD-CUTS 


Hssociation  press 

NEW    YORK  :    124  EAST    z8TH    STREET 
LONDON:  47  PATERNOSTER  ROW,  E.C. 


Copyright,  1912, 

BY  THE  INTERNATIONAL  COMMITTEE  OF  YOUNO  MEN'S 
CHRISTIAN  ASSOCIATIONS 


7 


FOREWORD 

WHEN  the  night  is  black  about  the  camp- 
fire,  and  the  flames  die  down,  and  the 
half-burned  embers  fall  into  the  ashes, 
we  look  into  the  red  chamber  of  romance  and  see 
the  flickering  shapes  of  the  men  of  long  ago.  The 
silence  deepens  and  the  world  of  today  is  swal- 
lowed up  by  that  of  a  yesterday  older  than  his- 
tory. The  blood  of  Angle,  Saxon  and  Jute,  Kelt 
and  Slav,  sings  in  our  brains.  Something  touches 
our  eyes  with  a  magic  wand  and  we  see  at  the 
heart  of  the  fire  pictures  of  the  world  when  man 
was  young.  The  backlog  becomes  a  ruddy  screen 
upon  which  pass  and  repass  the  heroes  who  won 
a  world  for  us  by  their  courage  and  skill. 

These  tales  'go  with  the  moving  pictures  of 
the  backlog.  There  are  more  where  these  came 
from,  and  the  lover  of  the  open  fire  can  read  them 
for  himself. 

The  world  of  these  pictures  was  young.  Every- 
thing had  to  be  learned — everything  had  to  be 
won.  But  there  were  giants  in  those  days  and 
the  Revealer  held  the  guiding  torch.  Slowly  but 
surely  they  won  mastery  over  harsh  nature, 
savage  beasts,  and  even  more  savage  men,  but 
greatest  of  all,  mastery  over  self, 
v 


1630309 


FOREWORD 

And  they  were  men  and  women  of  our  own 
race.  Their  blood  runs  in  our  veins.  Their  home 
was  in  Angeln,  old  England,  the  low-lying  land 
where  they  lingered  for  awhile  before  they  crossed 
the  Great  Water  to  build  an  empire  on  which 
the  sun  never  sets.  Some  of  their  names  were 
passed  down  from  father  to  son  and  mother  to 
daughter  till  they  appeared  in  the  Doomsday 
Book  of  King  William,  where  they  can  be  seen 
now  by  those  who  are  curious. 

Many  of  the  animals  who  shared  the  forest 
primeval  with  man  in  Old  England  have  long 
since  disappeared,  but  they  have  left  their  bones 
in  caves  and  peat  bogs. 

"How  Men  Found  the  Great  Spirit"  has  been 
told  about  many  camp-fires.  There  has  been  a 
call  for  more  stories  of  the  same  kind.  Here 
they  are,  and  the  writer  hopes  that  others  who 
"  see  things  at  night"  in  the  fire  will  enjoy  them, 
and  see  more  for  themselves. 

H.  M.   BURR. 

"THE   PINES" 
SPRINGFIELD,  MASS.,  Dec.,  1911. 


VI 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

I.    THE  FIRE  SPIRIT i 

II.    THE  FIRST  POTTER i9 

III.  THE  FIRST  GANG 29 

IV.  THE  FIRST  CHIEF 47 

V.    THE  SMOKE  WAY 69 

VI.    THE  FIRST  MILKMAN 79 

VII.    RANG,  THE  RED  MAN 87 

VIII.  RANG  OF  THE  THINKING  HAND  .  i03 

IX.    THE  FIRST  SAILOR n5 

X.  THE  GARDEN  OF  ULMA     ....  i23 

XI.  LET,  THE  FIRST  ARTIST    ....  i33 

XII.  SAX,  THE  FIRST  MUSICIAN  .    .    .  i45 

XIII.  THE  CALL  OF  THE  GREAT  WATER  i57 

XIV.  THE  STORY  OF  LUP i77 

XV.  THE  WOOING  OF  SENNA    ....  i89 

XVI.  HUN,  THE  HUNTER  OF  WHITE  MEN  i97 

XVII.    THE  LAKE  DWELLERS 2n 

XVIII.  How    MEN    FOUND   THE    GREAT 

SPIRIT  .                          229 


VII 


THE   FIRE   SPIRIT 


AROUND    THE    FIRE 


I.  THE  FIRE   SPIRIT 

BEFORE  the  years  were  counted  or  the  circuit 
of  the  seasons  reckoned,  man  lived  where  it 
was  always  summer,  and  summer  heat  ruled  the 
north  land,  now  ruled  by  winter  cold.  As  the 
scepter  of  the  Frost  King  reached  farther  and 
farther  south,  men  slowly  and  reluctantly  retreated 
from  the  old  homes.  But  some  lingered  through 
the  fireless  winters  for  the  love  of  the  familiar  places 
and  the  beauty  of  the  northern  spring  and  summer. 

Among  those  who  lingered  was  Ang,  the  mighty 
hunter.  His  home  was  in  a  cave  at  the  edge  of 
the  great  forest.  It  faced  the  south  so  that  it  could 
catch  all  the  scant  rays  of  the  winter's  sun.  The 
mouth  of  the  cave  was  partly  closed  by  a  screen  of 
fir  boughs,  while  a  bark  slab,  torn  from  a  big  tree, 
formed  a  rude  door.  Inside  the  cave  were  bunks 
piled  high  with  dry  moss  and  leaves,  with  the 
skin  of  animals  which  Ang  had  slain  thrown  over 
them. 

It  was  not  yet  midwinter,  but  it  was  cold,  bitter 

cold.     As  Ang  sat   in   front  of  his  cave,   chipping 

knife  blades  and  arrow  points  from  flint,  he  moved 

from   time  to  time  to  keep   in   the   feeble  light  of 

3 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

the  sun,  but  it  seemed  to  have  little  warmth,  and 
he  shivered  and  grumbled  to  himself:  "  Every  year 
the  cold  grows  stronger.  The  old  men  tell  of  a 
time  when  it  came  late  and  went  soon,  but  that 
must  have  been  long  ago.  Ugh !  but  it  is  cold ! 
It  gets  under  my  bearskin ;  it  nips  my  ears  and 
numbs  my  hands.  I  wish  I  had  taken  the  long 
journey  to  the  south  land,  but  it  was  far  for  the 
woman  and  the  child,  and  I  hoped  that  the  Ice 
Giant  would  grow  old  and  lose  his  strength  —  and 
I  was  born  here ;  my  father  and  my  father's  father 
hunted  in  these  woods  and  fished  in  this  river,  and 
men,  like  trees,  take  root." 

The  sun  sank  into  a  cold  gray  cloud  in  the 
west.  The  bite  of  the  wind  grew  sharper.  The 
hoarse  cough  of  a  child  echoed  from  the  cave  be- 
hind him,  and  the  dull  crooning  song  of  the  mother, 
as  she  tried  to  warm  the  sick  child  at  her  breast, 
could  be  heard  as  the  wind  was  lulled  for  a 
moment. 

Colder  and  more  cold  it  grew,  but  Ang  would  not 
enter  the  cave.  He  could  not  bear  to  hear  the 
troubled  breathing  of  the  child  or  see  the  face  of 
the  mother.  He  dreaded  the  coming  of  the  grim 
White  Spirit  for  this,  his  last  child.  Sometimes 
he  fancied  he  could  hear  him  rushing  through  the 
woods  above  the  cliff,  and  feel  the  chill  of  his 
breath  on  his  face.  Had  he  no  other  food  but 
children,  this  dread  hunter? 

Colder  and  more  cold  it  grew,  but  Ang  still  lin- 
gered. He  piled  dry  moss  about  his  feet  and  tried 
4 


THE    FIRE    SPIRIT 

to  bring  warmth  to  his  numb  hands  by  hammering 
off  flakes  of  flint  which  he  would  later  shape  into 
rough  weapons  and  tools.  He  struck  two  flints 
together  in  a  kind  of  dumb  fury.  It  was  a  glancing 
blow,  and  one  of  the  flints  dropped  into  the  dry 
moss  at  his  feet  with  a  flicker  of  sparks.  A  coil 
of  gray  smoke  crept  out  of  the  moss  like  a  serpent 
coming  out  of  his  hole.  A  bright  spot  at  its  heart 
grew  brighter  and  brighter,  and  then  red  flames 
lapped  hungrily. 

Ang  leaped  to  his  feet  in  astonishment.  At  the 
smiting  of  the  flint  the  Fire  Spirit  had  been  born. 
Its  breath  was  the  breath  of  summer.  He  stretched 
out  his  hands  over  the  flames,  and  the  cold  loosened 
its  grip.  He  touched  the  flame,  and  it  stung  him 
like  an  angry  bee.  Clearly  the  Spirit  must  not  be 
handled.  Awe  and  wonder  filled  the  mind  of 
Ang.  He  fell  on  his  knees  and  prayed  to  the  'Fire 
Spirit :  H  Spirit  of  light  and  heat,  Thou  hast  come 
in  our  hour  of  need  —  I  know  not  whence.  Stay 
and  keep  away  the  terrible  cold  Spirit  with  thy 
red  arrows.  Stay!  I  will  deny  thee  nothing.  If 
Thou  art  hungry,  I  will  feed  thec." 

As  Ang  watched  the  fire,  it  hungrily  ate  up  the 
dry  moss  and  lapped  the  dry  sticks.  He  brought 
more  and  fed  them  to  the  reaching  flames.  The 
northern  darkness  had  shut  in  the  rest  of  the  world, 
light  lingered  at  the  door  of  the  cave  of  Ang,  and 
the  warm  breath  of  the  fire  brought  back  the  heat 
of  summer  in  the  midst  of  winter.  Joy  filled  the 
heart  of  Ang,  and  he  called  to  the  mother  and  the 
S 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

child :  "  Oma,  Om,  come !  The  Great  One  has 
heard.  Come,  come,  come  quickly." 

The  bark  door  opened,  and  the  mother  came  out 
holding  the  child  to  her  breast.  A  cry  of  wonder 
broke  from  her  as  she  saw  the  fire,  but  wonder  gave 
way  to  the  mother  instinct.  The  All-Father  had 
heard.  Here  were  warmth  and  light.  The  gray 
huntsman  should  not  have  her  child.  She  crouched 
by  the  fire,  holding  the  babe  in  her  arms  so  that 
she  sheltered  it  from  the  encircling  cold  while  the 
glowing  fire  warmed  and  healed  it.  With  grati- 
tude and  awe  she  watched  the  color  come  back  to 
the  child's  face,  and  then  she  looked  with  eager 
questioning  at  the  face  of  Ang,  as  it  shone  with 
a  light  brighter  than  that  of  the  fire. 

Finally  he  spoke:  "  I  sat  at  the  going  in  of  the 
cave.  Fear  gripped  me ;  the  cold  smote  me.  I  said, 
Odin  has  forgotten.  It  may  be  that  he  has  gone 
to  the  south  land  because  the  cold  was  stronger 
than  he.  I-  heard  the  barking  of  the  child.  The 
dread  of  the  great  robber  was  on  me.  I  tried  to 
forget.  I  smote  the  flints  together.  Star  flies 
seemed  to  leap  from  the  stone,  and  fire  was  born 
in  the  heart  of  the  moss." 

Then  Ang  stood  by  the  mother  and  the  child 
and  placed  his  left  hand  on  the  head  of  the  mother 
and  raised  his  right  hand  to  the  sky  to  which  the 
leaping  flames  pointed  and  said :("  Great  Father, 
now  I  know  that  none  is  greater  than  Thou ;  not 
even  the  giants  of  the  north.  Thy  shining  arrows 
have  driven  the  huntsman  back.  And  I  know  that 
6 


THE    FIRE    SPIRIT 

Thine  eyes  see  farther  than  the  eagle  floating  in 
the  sky,  for  thou  hast  seen  us  alone  in  the  great 
woods,  and  Thine  ear  is  quicker  to  hear  than  that 
of  the  mother  listening  for  the  cry  of  her  first 
born,  for  thou  hast  heard  the  cry  that  did  not  rise 
to  our  lips.  Henceforth  the  fire  shall  be  the  sign 
of  Thee.  As  the  flames  leap  up  to  the  sky,  so  shall 
our  thoughts  leap  to  Thee,  Our  Father."} 

All  through  the  long  cold  winter  Arrg  and  Oma 
fed  the  fire,  and  Om  grew  well  and  strong  again. 
They  very  soon  found  that  the  fire,  though  it  gave 
so  freely  the  life-giving  light  and  heat,  had  to  he 
treated  with  great  care.  It  was  a  good  servant 
but  a  poor  master.  One  day  little  Om  toddled 
too  close  and  burned  his  hand  on  a  live  coal.  On 
another  day  the  wind  blew  the  sparks  from  the  fire 
into  the  dry  rushes  which  screened  the  entrance 
to  the  cave,  and  in  a  moment  the  cave  was  filled 
with  flames  and  smoke,  and  Oma  had  to  cover  her 
head  and  that  of  Om  with  skins  and  dash  out  into 
the  open.  All  the  bedding  of  dry  leaves  was  burned 
up,  and  some  of  the  skins  were  badly  scorched.  The 
wooden  handles  of  many  of  Ang's  spears  and  arrows 
and  knives  were  burned  also.  It  took  many  days 
of  hard  work  to  replace  what  the  fire  had  eaten. 
So  they  came  to  fear  as  well  as  to  love  it. 

But  Ang  and  Oma  learned  one  thing  from  the 
fire  which  burned  out  their  cave  that  was  worth 
more  than  a  thousand  fires  could  destroy.  Part  of 
a  deer  which  Ang  had  killed  hung  inside  of  the 
cave.  It  had  been  very  hard  to  get,  and  it  was 
7 


AROUND    THE    FIRE 

almost  the  first  thing  which  Ang  thought  of  after 
the  'fire  had  burned  down.  If  that  had  been  de- 
stroyed, they  might  starve  before  he  could  kill  an- 
other one.  He  dashed  into  the  cave  to  see  if  any- 
thing was  left,  the  fear  of  hunger  already  gripping 
his  vitals.  A  strange  new  odor  filled .  his  nostrils 
and  doubled  his  hunger  —  the  smell  of  roasted 
venison.  The  deer  still  hung  from  the  side  of  the 
cave.  The  hair  had  been  burned  off  and  the  skin 
hung  in  rolls,  but  the  flesh  was  there,  brown,  hot, 
dripping  red. 

At  Ang's  call  Oma  hurried  in.  It  needed  but 
one  whiff  of  the  fragrant  air  to  convince  her  that 
the  touch  of  fire  had  made  of  the  cold  frozen  meat 
food  more  delicious  than  the  fruits  of  summer. 
She  snatched  a  long  stone  knife  from  her  belt  and 
cut  strips  of  venison  steak  from  the  smoking  mass 
and  gave  to  Ang  and  Om. 

After  they  had  eaten,  Ang  looked  into  the  glow- 
ing embers  of  the  fire  in  front  of  the  cave  and 
pondered.  The  Fire  Spirit  had  grown  angry  be- 
cause they  had  taken  only  one  of  the  gifts  of  the 
Great  Father  and  had  burned  out  the  cave,  but 
it  had  showed  them  what  its  magic  touch  would  do 
to  the  frozen  meat.  The  wonder  of  it  grew  on  him. 
As  he  looked  into  the  world  at  the  heart  of  the 
coals,  he  saw  the  promise  of  a  better  one  than  that 
in  which  he  lived  —  a  world  in  which  the  sons  of 
his  son's  sons  should  have  discovered  all  the  gifts 
of  the  Fire  Spirit. 

As  Ang   looked    into   the   fire,   Oma   looked   into 


THE    FIRE    SPIRIT 

the  face  of  Ang  and  wondered  at  what  she  saw 
there.  His  look  seemed  to  pierce  the  blackness 
behind  the  fire  a  hundred  days'  journey.  "  Father 
of  my  son,  what  seest  thou  in  the  fire  ?  "  "I  see," 
said  Ang,  "  the  spirits  of  the  things  which  are  to 
be.  I  see,  but  do  not  understand  all  that  I  see. 
I  see  our  son's  sons  talking  fire,  the  flames  leaping 
from  their  mouths  like  tongues ;  I  see  them  cross- 
ing the  big  Water  in  great  logs  which  breathe 
out  fire  and  smoke.  I  see  —  but  there  are  no 
words  to  tell  thee  all  that  I  see." 

And  Oma  looked  into  the  embers,  and  she  too 
saw  the  flickering  spirits  of  the  things  to  be.  She 
saw  countless  fires  —  fires  in  the  woods,  fires  in 
caves,  fires  on  altars  —  but  those  who  tended  the 
fires  were  the  daughters  of  her  daughters.  , 

In  a  few  days  the  damage  done  by  the  fire  was 
repaired.  It  was  Oma  who  discovered  that  water 
stopped  the  hunger  of  the  fire,  and  when  it  grew 
too  fierce  she  beat  it  back  with  boughs  dipped  in 
the  stream  which  ran  before  their  cave. 

The  warmth  of  the  fire  and  the  cooked  meat 
made  little  Om  grow  as  no  boy  had  ever  grown 
in  the  cold  season,  and  before  the  winter  was  over 
he  was  running  about  as  sturdily  as  a  young  bear. 
But  it  made  trouble  for  Oma.  The  woods  were 
full  of  savage  wild  beasts,  bears,  panthers,  and 
wolves.  Even  Ang,  with  his  strength  and  cunning 
and  great  stone  axe  and  sharp  knives,  was  in  con- 
stant danger.  When  he  went  out  to  hunt,  Oma 
always  feared  till  lie  came  back.  What  chance  then 
9 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

would  little  Om  have?  So  she  tried  to  keep  him 
always  in  the  clearing  before  the  cave,  but  the  task 
grew  harder  and  harder  as  the  weather  grew  warmer 
and  Om's  legs  stronger  and  his  eyes  more  curious. 

One  evening,  just  as  the  dark  was  shutting  in, 
Oma  was  cracking  some  bones  to  get  some  choice 
marrow  for  Ang's  supper  after  he  returned  from 
his  hunting,  and  for  a  moment  her  back  was  turned 
to  the  boy.  When  she  looked  for  him,  he  had 
slipped  away  into  the  darkness.  The  cry  of  a 
hyena  broke  on  the  stillness  of  the  night,  savage, 
blood-curdling.  Then  came  a  terrified  scream  from 
little  Om.  She  leaped  to  her  feet  in  terror.  Where? 
Where?  Which  way?  The  sound  seemed  to  come 
from  all  directions.  Not  knowing  what  she  did, 
she  snatched  a  burning  brand  from  the  fire  and 
dashed  into  the  darkness,  leaving  a  trail  of  flame 
behind  her. 

She  had  gone  only  a  few  yards  when  she  came 
upon  the  beast  crouching  over  little  Om.  Thought- 
less of  all  danger  to  herself,  Oma  leaped  at  the 
savage  beast,  whirling  the  burning  brand  about  her 
head.  The  hyena  gave  a  snarl  of  surprise  and 
fear,  dropped  Om,  and  sprang  away  into  the  thicket, 
with  leaps  longer  than  any  he  had  made  in  his 
life,  for  the  fear  of  the  fire  was  on  him. 

Oma  snatched  her  baby  to  her  breast  and  hur- 
ried back  to  the  cave,  crooning  over  him  as  she 
went.  She  brought  him  to  the  fire  and  stripped  off 
his  little  fur  coat;  that  was  in  shreds,  but  the 
child's  skin  was  only  slightly  scratched. 
10 


THE    FIRE    SPIRIT 

As  she  locked  him  in  her  arms  to  comfort  him, 
Ang  suddenly  leaped  out  of  the  darkness,  his  great 
stone  axe  swinging  in  his  hands.  Terror  was  in 
his  face ;  sweat  dropped  from  him  like  rain.  "  The 
hyena !  I  heard  his  cry  here  and  that  of  little  Om !  " 

Oma  pointed  to  the  baby  in  her  arms,  to  the  torn 
skin  at  her  feet,  to  the  smoldering  branch  and 
to  the  darkness  which  had  swallowed  the  great 
beast.  "  It  was  only  a  moment,  but  he  slipped 
away  into  the  darkness;  I  heard  the  cry,  the  cry 
of  the  beast  and  the  cry  of  the  child.  I  caught 
up  a  brand  from  the  fire  and  ran ;  the  fearless 
one  ran  at  the  sight  of  it.  The  child  is  safe,  see!  " 
And  Om  smiled  at  his  father  through  tear-dimmed 
eyes. 

Then  Ang  knelt  by  the  side  of  the  child  and  its 
mother  and  prayed :/  "  O  Thou  who  art  greater 
than  the  greatest  anch  mightier  than  the  mightiest, 
again  Thou  hast  saved  us  by  the  red  magic.  By 
it  Thou  hast  made  us^Thy  children,  jnaslers  of  tHe 
beasts  of  the  wood1,  for  the  fear  of  the"  Re'cf  One  is 
upon  them  all." 

SkX* As  the   strength   of   the   winter   passed   and   the 

|\[    snow  began  to  melt,  Ang  had  a  visit  from  Wang, 

who  lived  some  days'  journey  to  the  east.     During 

the  winter  the  men  of  the  north  saw  little  of  each 

other.     Each  family  needed  a  large  hunting  ground, 

and   men   had   not  learned   to  live  together.     The 

distances  between   the   families  were  so  great  that 

when  the  snow  was  deep  in  the  woods  months  passed 

in  which  the  isolated  families  saw  no  human  beings 

II 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

outside  of  their  own  circle.  But  when  the  ice  broke 
up  and  the  snow  melted,  the  men  who  were  on 
fairly  friendly  terms  paid  visits  to  each  other  and 
exchanged  stories  of  the  winter's  experiences. 

Now  Wang  approached  the  cave  of  Ang  with 
great  ceremony.  It  was  neither  good  manners  nor 
safe  to  approach  another  man's  home  too  suddenly. 
One  could  not  be  sure  of  a  welcome,  and  it  was 
always  assumed  that  one  who  came  suddenly  was 
an  enemy.  So  Wang  strolled  out  on  an  open  spot 
by  the  bank  of  the  river  which  flowed  by  the  cave 
of  Ang,  and  acted  as  if  he  did  not  know  that  there 
was  another  human  being  within  a  day's  journey. 
He  tossed  stones  into  the  water  and  watched  the 
ripples,  apparently  absorbed  in  meditation.  Then 
he  imitated  the  call  of  the  wild  fowl  which  swarmed 
the  river  banks. 

For  a  time  Ang  ignored  him,  going  about  as  if 
he  saw  no  one.  But  Oma  and  Om  peered  out 
curiously  from  the  mouth  of  the  cave.  At  last 
Ang  wandered  down  to  the  river's  edge  and  looked 
aimlessly  everywhere  but  where  Wang  stood.  He 
too  tossed  many  stones  into  the  river.  Finally, 
apparently  satisfied  that  all  the  demands  of  primi- 
tive etiquette  had  been  met,  Ang  turned  to  Wang 
and  put  his  left  hand  over  his  heart  and  raised 
his  right  to  the  sky.  Wang  did  the  same ;  they 
were  of  one  blood  and  children  of  the  Great  Father. 
Both  dropped  their  weapons  where  they  stood  and' 
went  to  meet  each  other  unarmed.  Ang  and  Wang 
had  played  together  as  hoys,  hunted  together  as 
12 


THE    FIRE    SPIRIT 

young  men  and  taken  wives  from  the  same  family, 
but  each  spring,  after  the  winter's  separation,  they 
met  with  the  same  elaborate  ceremony,  because  it 
was  the  man  custom. 

When  the  men  were  seated,  Oma'and  Om  came 
out  and  sat  near  by.  "  A  long  winter,"  said  Ang. 
"  A  long  winter,"  answered  Wang.  "  Much  cold," 
said  Ang.  "  Much  cold,"  answered  Wang.  '  The 
woman  and  the  boy?  "  asked  Wang.  '  The  woman 
is  well,  and  the  child  grows  like  a  bear's  cub," 
replied  Ang. 

Wang  turned  and  looked  at  Oma  and  Om  and 
gave  a  grunt  of  surprise.  "  Why,  they  are  as  fat 
and  sleek  as  if  it  was  the  time  of  fruits  and  nuts 
instead  of  the  end  of  the  great  cold,  when  even 
the  bear  is  so  thin  that  he  casts  no  shadow.  Has 
the  eagle  carried  thee  to  the  south  land  on  its 
wings?  Have  you  found  food  that  cold  does  not 
harden?  Has  Odin  fed  you?  My  woman  sits  all 
day  at  the  going  in  of  the  cave.  She  looks  old 
like  the  moss-bearded  oak.  She  notices  nothing, 
but  talks  ever  about  the  little  one  whom  the  Black 
Robber  took ;  she  cares  not  for  the  child  that  is 
left,  who  cries  for  food  like  a  young  kid  whose 
mother  the  wolves  have  eaten.  And  my  strength 
has  not  come  again.  My  traps  and  snares  take 
nothing,  and  my  arrow  is  slower  than  the  flying 
deer." 

At  this  Oma  leaped  to  her  feet  and  brought  a 
piece  of  dried  i  venison  from  the  cave  and  a  cake 
made  from  a  flour  of  pounded  nuts  and  seeds  and 
13 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

put  them  before  the  hungry  man.  He  ate  raven- 
ously, like  a  famished  wolf,  in  silence,  but  ques- 
tioning with  eager  eye,  "  How?  Why?  What?" 
And  Ang  answered  the  unspoken  question :  "  It 
was  cold,  so  cold  that  the  blood  in  one's  body  ran 
slow  and  became  like  ice  in  the  stream.  The  meat 
became  like  stone.  The  supply  of  nuts  failed. 
The  woman  grew  weak.  The  huntsman  from  the 
north  took  the  child  by  the  throat.  His  breath 
came  hard.  I  said,  '  He  will  be  taken  as  the  others 
have  been  taken,  and  the  mother  will  not  stay  with- 
out the  child,  and  I  shall  be  alone,'  and  I  cried  to 
the  Great  One,  to  Odin,  the  All-Father :  '  We  are 
cold,  give  us  heat;  we  are  hungry,  give  us  food.' 
I  heard  no  answer;  there  was  no  voice;  but  the 
prayer  was  heard.  I  sat  by  the  going  in  of  the  cave, 
making  knives  of  flint,  not  thinking  to  use  them, 
but  hoping  to  forget  and  cover  up  the  hoarse  cry- 
ing of  the  child  with  the  noise  of  the  flints.  So 
I  smote  two  stones  together,  and  the  chips  fell  into 
the  dry  moss  at  my  feet.  There  was  a  buzzing  noise 
like  that  of  a  bee  in  a  flower;  a  little  white  cloud 
rose  from  the  moss,  then  spots  of  light  like  star- 
flies  at  night.  Red  tongues  reached  out  and  ate  up 
the  moss  and  the  dry  sticks.  I  saw  that  the  Red 
One  was  hungry,  and  I  gave  him  more  moss  and 
dry  wood  to  eat.  He  grew  big  and  bright,  and  his 
breath  was  warm  like  that  of  summer,  and  Oma 
brought  out  the  child,  and  he  drove  away  the  bark- 
ing sickness  from  the  child's  throat.  Then  we  knew 
that  Odin  had  heard  us  and  sent  him  to  save  us." 
14 


THE    FIRE    SPIRIT 

And  Ang  told  Wang  how  they  had  learned  to 
cook  the  venison ;  how  they  had  learned  to  feed  the 
Red  One  and  keep  him  from  wandering.  He  told 
how  the  fear  of  him  was  on  all  the  beasts  of  the 
woods,  so  that  not  even  the  most  savage  and  the 
most  hungry  dared  stand  before  him ;  and  the  small- 
est child  was  safe  within  the  circle  of  light. 

Then  they  took  the  wondering  Wang  and  showed 
him  the  sacred  fire,  gift  of  the  Keeper  of  Secrets; 
they  cooked  venison  over  the  coals  so  that  he  might 
taste  it.  And  when  Wang  started  for  home  Oma 
gave  him  a  shoulder  of  smoked  deer's  meat  and 
cakes  made  of  acorn  meal  and  cooked  on  flat  stones. 

And  now  a  strange  thing  happened.  Pity  stirred 
the  heart  of  Ang.  Odin  had  helped  him  in  the  time 
of  his  troubles;  why  should  he  not  help  Wang? 
He  turned  to  Oma.  '  The  hunting  is  good ;  the 
stream  is  full  of  fish ;  the  Red  One  can  warm 
more  than  three.  I  will  go  and  bring  Wang  and 
his  woman  and  his  child.  They  can  live  in  the 
cave  which  we  thought  should  be  Om's.  It  is 
the  will  of  the  All-Father  that  men  should  live 
together." 

And  the  men  went  together  and  brought  Wang's 
wife  and  child,  and  they  made  a  screen  and  a  bark 
door  for  the  new  cave  home.  Oma  taught  Suta, 
wife  of  Wang,  the  mysteries  of  the  fire,  and  Ang 
and  Wang  became  the  first  neighbors,  and  that  also 
was  one  of  the  gifts  of  the  Revealer,  through  the 
Spirit  of  the  Fire. 

As  time  went  on,  the  story  of  Ang,  the  fire-man, 
15 


AROUND    THE    FIRE 

spread  through  all  the  north  country,  and  often 
men  came  as  Wang  had  done,  many  days'  journey, 
through  trackless  forest,  to' see  the  Wonderful  fire 
In  front  of  the  cave  of  Ang.  But  Ang  told  to  no 
one  but  Wang  the  secret  of  how  to  call  the  Fire 
Spirit.  To  men  "who  were  friendly  he  gave  live 
coals  to  carry  away  in  bowls  hollowed  out  of  soap- 
stone.  Men  who  were  the  enemies  of  Ang  did  not 
dare  come  near  his  cave  for  fear  of  the  red  knives 
which  guarded  it. 

By  and  by  men  began  to  say  to  each  other,  as 
they  went  to  hunt  or  sat  about  the  carefully  tended 
h're,  that  Ang,  the  fire-man,  must  be  loved  by  Odin, 
"and  they  came  to  Ang  and  said:  "Tell  us  of  the 
(ireat  One,"  and  Ang  was  troubled  because  he  had 
not  heard  his  voice  or  seen  him.  As  he  hunted  in 
the  stillness  of  the  forest,  he  pondered :  "  Why  had 
no  one  ever  seen  the  Great"  Spirit?  Or  was  the 
sky  his  face  and  the  sun  and  moon  his  eyes?  Why 
had  no  one  heard  his  voice?  Or  was  the  thunder 
his  voice?  If  so,  no  one  understood  his  language." 
The  more  he  thought,  the  more  troubled  he  became. 
For  days  at  a  time  he  rarely  spoke  and  went  about 
as  one  in  a  dream,  and  Oma  said  to  Wang  and 
to  others  who  came,  "  The  spell  of  Odin  is  on 
him,"  and  they  began  to  look  on  Ang  with  awe 
and  wonder  and  something  of  fear. 

One  night  as  Ang  w_as_jarjrom  home  .and. _slept 

in  a  cave  on  a  hill-sideBhe  dreamed  that  his  shadow 

self  left  his  body  and  journeyed   to  a  far  country, 

and  there  he  saw  his  father  and  his  father's  father 

16 


THE    FIRE    SPIRIT 

and  the  men  of  long  ago.  They  all  sat  about  a 
great  fire  and  beckoned  to  him  to  join  their  circle. 
Not  a  word  was  spoken.  There  was  a  silence  like 
that  before  the  storm  breaks,  and  each  one  in  the 
mystic  circle  looked  steadfastly  into  the  fire,  which 
burned  on  and  on.,  though  no  one  fed  its  flames. 
+  As  Ang  ceimnued  tK>  loolclPmto  the  flames,  it 
seemed  as  if  something  was  lifted  from  his  eyes 
and  he  saw  what  no  one  had  seen  before.  »  The 
earth"  was  the  body  of  Odin.  His  life  was  the 
life  of  all.  He  had  not  one  voice  like  man,  but 
many.  He  spoke  in  the  thunder,  in  the  voice  of  the 
storm,  but  also  in  the  song  of  the  birds  and  in  the 
words  of  one's  best  beloved. 

Ang  awoke  just  as  the  sun  was  driving  the  mists 
from  the  valley  beneath  him,  and  these  words  came 
to  his  lips  as  if  they  were  a  message  from  the  dream 
world  which  he  had  just  left:  "The  wise  son  of 
the  All-Father  sees  him  everywhere  and  hears  his 
voice  always."  For  the  first  time  in  his  life  Ang 
saw  the  beauty  of  the  world  at  his  feet,  and  the 
song  of  the  birds  which  filled  the  vibrant  air  awoke 
a  new  joy  of  melody  and  harmony  in  his  soul. 

As  Oma  and  Om  came  out  to  meet  him,  he  looked 
at  them  with  newly  opened  eyes.  How  beautiful 
was  the  ruddy  brown  sheen  of  Oma's  hair  and  the 
light  in  her  eyes  as  she  welcomed  him!  And  little 
Om's  eyes  sparkled  like  dewdrops  in  the  light  of 
early  morning,  and  his  laughter  was  like  the  splash- 
ing of  a  brook  over  its  pebbles! 

When  Ang  told  Oma  of  his  dream,  she  answered: 
17 


AROUND    THE    FIRE 

"  The  men  were  right.  The  spell  of  the  Keeper 
of  Secrets  was  on  thee.  Thou  art  a  man  apart. 
Henceforth  thou  shalt  tell  men  the  will  of  the 
one  who  hides  himself." 

And  so  Ang  became  one  of  the  voices  of  Odin. 
From  far  and  near  men  in  trouble  and  men  in  doubt 
came  to  him,  and  he  spoke  words  of  comfort  and 
wisdom.  And  every  year  before  the  cold  kept 
men  apart  they  gathered  at  the  home  of  Ang.  They 
built  a  great  stone  altar,  and  each  man  threw  a 
log  upon  the  fire  which  Ang  had  kindled.  And  they 
brought  the  choicest  from  their  hunting  and  had  a 
great  feast,  but  they  always  gave  the  best  to  Ang, 
and  he  put  it  in  the  fire,  saying,  "  The  best  we 
have  is  Thine  and  we  are  Thine."  And  when  they 
had  feasted  and  were  satisfied,  Ang  talked  to  them 
of  the  All-Father,  and  each  year  his  words  were 
wiser  and  more  winning. 

Before  the  men  departed  each  took  a  brand  from 
the  fire  and  marched  about  the  altar  chanting: 

Spirit  red,  Spirit  red, 
Thine  hunger  has  been  fed. 

Spirit  hot,  Spirit  hot, 
Forget  us  not,  forget  us  not 

As  the  year  grows  old 
Keep  us  from  the  cold! 

In  the  darkness  of  the  night 
Be  our  shining  light, 
Spirit  white,  Spirit  white! 


18 


THE    FIRST    POTTER 


II.  THE   FIRST  POTTER 

ANG  was  a  mighty  hunter  and  also  a  priest  of 
Odin,  but  Oma  was  a  famous  housewife  or 
cave-wife,  and  not  only  Suta,  the  wife  of  Wang, 
came  to  take  lessons  of  her,  but  many  other  women 
who  had  heard  of  her  wonderful  skill  in  cooking 
old  food  in  new  ways  and  discovering  new  foods 
which  the  magic  of  the  fire  made  palatable.  She 
had  learned  not  merely  how  to  cook  the  meat  which 
Ang  brought,  but  to  dry  it  so  that  it  would  keep 
for  a  long  time.  She  discovered  how  to  make  a 
coarse  flour  from  nuts  and  acorns  and  to  bake  cakes 
on  flat  stones.  At  the  fire  feast  the  cooking  of 
Oma  made  as  great  an  impression  as  the  wisdom 
and  strength  of  Ang. 

13 ut  her  greatest  discovery  was  the  art  of  making 
pottery  dishes  out  of  clay  and  baking  them  before 
the  fire.  For  a  long  time  women  had  made  baskets 
of  reeds  and  willow  twigs  in  which  they  could  carry 
dry  foods,  but  the  problem  was  to  get  something 
in  which  they  could  carry  liquids.  Sometimes  they 
used  skin  bottles,  but  they  soon  leaked  and  the 
water  rotted  them  out.  Then  some  clever  woman 
smrrirrd  the  inside  of  a  closely  woven  basket  with 
resinous  pitch.  Another  lined  her  baskets  with  clay 

21 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

and  baked  them  in  the  sun,  but  water  would  soon 
soften  the  clay.  Then  came  Oma  and  the  fire  and 
the  art  of  baking  clay.  This  is  the  way  it  hap- 
pened. Oma  had  been  lining  some  baskets  with 
clay,  and  little  Om  tried  to  imitate  her.  Since  it 
was  cold  he  sat  as  near  to  the  fire  as  he  could,  and 
after  he  had  finished  one  he  would  put  it  on  a 
stone  near  the  fire  until  he  had  a  row  of  them. 
Then  the  wind  changed  suddenly  and  blew  the  fire 
towards  him,  and  he  had  to  move  quickly,  leaving 
his  clay  baskets  on  the  rock.  He  called  to  his 
mother  to  get  them,  but  she  had  no  notion  of  get- 
ting burned  for  so  small  a  cause  and  she  was  too 
busy  to  bother,  as  mothers  often  are. 

That  night  after  Om  had  gone  to  sleep  she  sat 
by  the  fire  with  Ang,  and  her  eyes  spied  the  little 
row  of  clay  baskets.  She  picked  one  up  to  show 
the  father  what  a  clever  boy  his  son  was  getting 
to  be.  As  she  touched  the  clay,  she  found  it  dry 
and  hard  as  no  clay  she  had  ever  touched  before. 
Some  of  the  baskets  were  dry  and  crumbly,  but 
two  or  three  in  the  center  were  hard  as  stone. 
A  thought  came  to  her.  She  ran  to  the  brook  and 
filled  the  hardest  with  water  and  brought  them 
back  to  the  fire.  They  did  not  soften  or  leak. 
Then  she  put  them  on  a  flat  stone  and  pushed  them 
almost  into  the  fire.  Soon  the  water  in  them  began 
to  bubble  and  steam. 

"  Look !  "  cried  Oma.  "  At  the  touch  of  the 
Red  One  a  little  Cloud  Spirit  goes  up  to  the  great 
Cloud  Spirits  that  fly  in  the  blue  above  us."  Then 

22 


THE    FIRST    POTTER 

Ang  knew  that  Odin  had  given  a  new  gift.  "  This 
time  the  Red  One  has  spoken  to  you;  what  has 
he  said?" 

Oma  carefully  drew  the  little  clay  pots  from  the 
fire,  and  after  they  had  cooled  she  examined  them. 
Two  of  them  were  cracked,  but  one  was  firm  and 
solid  as  if  it  had  been  cut  from  stone.  She  held 
it  up  before  Ang  in  triumph.  '  This  is  what  we 
have  been  waiting  for  since  the  beginning  of  time. 
The  Red  One  has  worked  magic  on  the  clay,  and 
its  old  enemy,  the  water,  cannot  eat  through  it." 

The  next  day  Oma  made  baskets  lined  with  clay 
and  then,  putting  them  on  flat  stones,  pushed  them 
into  the  heat  of  the  fire.  Some  of  them  crumbled, 
but  others  baked  hard  and  firm.  As  the  heat  burned 
off  the  inclosing  basket,  the  pattern  was  left  molded 
on  the  clay. 

After  many  experiments  Oma  learned  just  what 
clay  to  use  and  how  to  bake  it.  And  she  made 
pots  of  all  sizes  and  arranged  them  on  ledges  of 
her  cave  and  filled  them  with  nuts  and  seeds.  Then 
she  learned  how  to  use  the  clay  pots  for  cooking. 
In  the  old  days  she  placed  scraps  of  meat  and  bone 
and  roots  in  a  pitch-lined  basket  and  then  added 
water  and  hot  stones  from  the  fire.  Of  course 
the  pitch  softened  and  gave  an  unpleasant  taste  to 
the  stew,  and  often  the  hot  water  softened  it  so 
much  that  the  basket  became  like  a  sieve.  But  now 
Oma  could  mix  her  stews  and  brews  and  boil  them 
until  they  were  soft  and  delicious  and  the  clay  dish 
was  just  as  good  as  before. 
23 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

And  Sutn  and  other  women  came  to  look ;  and 
they  wondered  and  tasted,  and  smacked  their  lips, 
and  asked  how  it  was  done,  then  went  home  to  do 
likewise.  And  the  fame  of  Ang  and  Oma  grew 
in  the  north  land,  and  men  said,  "  They  are  loved 
by  the  Great  One." 

But  if  Oma  made  the  first  pottery  and  the  most 
useful,  Suta,  wife  of  Wang,  made  the  most  beau- 
tiful. After  she  had  learned  to  bake  the  clay  so 
that  neither  fire  nor  water  would  touch  it,  she 
amused  herself  by  making  dishes  of  queer  shapes. 
Then  she  discovered  it  was  not  necessary  to  make 
the  basket  molds,  and  that  if  she  made  marks  on 
the  clay  they  would  be  baked  in.  She  began  by 
making  a  little  row  of  nail  prints  about  the  rim  — 
((((((((((•  Then  she  made  rough  pictures  of 
animals  and  men  with  a  sharpened  stick.  And  the 
fame  of  Suta  went  out  also  through  the  north  land, 
and  they  came  from  far  away  to  see  the  wonderful 
things  which  she  had  done.  Others  tried,  but  no 
one  could  make  such  beautiful  dishes  as  Suta. 

Before  the  great  fire  feast  an  idea  came  to  Suta 
like  a  dream  in  the  night,  she  knew  not  from  where. 
She  would  make  a  great  bowl  for  Odin  and  she 
would  mold  on  it  pictures  of  his  gifts,  so  that  all 
who  saw  would  remember  from  whom  the  good 
things  came.  With  great  care  she  shaped  a  bowl 
as  high  as  a  five-year-old  child  and  so  large  that 
a  grown  man  could  not  circle  it  with  his  arms.  On 
it  she  pictured  the  man  who  shot  the  first  deer  with 
a  stone-tipped  arrow,  the  man  who  made  the  first 
24 


THE    FIRST    POTTER 

snare  for  the  wild  birds,  the  man  who  first  crossed 
the  deep  water  in  a  hollowed  log,  Ang  striking  fire 
from  the  flints,  Oma  baking  the  clay  dishes.  Then 
she  hesitated.  These  and  many  things  more  the 
Great  One  had  given ;  what  would  He  give  next  ? 
What  did  she  want  most? 

Now  Suta  was  not  like  Ang  or  Wang  or  even 
like  Oma.  Wang  had  thought  sometimes  that  she 
was  not  so  good  a  cook  as  Oma  and  that  she  spent 
too  much  time  listening  to  the  song  of  the  birds 
and  watching  the  play  of  the  light  on  the  water 
and  the  woods  and  the  far-off  hills.  She  did  these 
things  sometimes  when  he  thought  she  ought  to  get 
wood  for  the  fire  or  cook  something  for  him,  and 
he  grumbled  a  little.  Hut  now  that  she  made  dishes 
of  clay  which  no  one  else  could  make  and  all  men 
said,  "  What  a  fortunate  man  Wang  is  to  have  a 
woman  that  can  make  such  things!  "  Wang  began 
to  be  very  proud  of  her.  He  even  went  so  far  as 
to  get  wood  for  the  fire,  which  he  did  not  think 
man's  work. 

And  what  did  Suta  the  dreamer  want?  She  did 
not  want  more  food  or  more  clothes  or  a  bigger 
cave;  she  wanted  the  power  to  mold  in  clay  the 
things  she  saw  and  loved  and  the  things  which  she 
saw  with  her  eyes  closed.  So  she  put  on  the  great 
bowl  for  the  All-Father  a  picture  of  a  woman,  with 
her  back  turned  on  the  lookers  and  a  sharpened 
stick  in  her  hand,  just  ready  to  work  the  soft  clay, 
but  waiting  for  the  power  to  draw  on  clay  the 
picture  in  her  mind.  It  was  the  first  expression 
25 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

of  the  unsatisfied  yearning  of  the  artist  for  beauty 
and  the  power  to  express  it.  For  Suta  was  the 
mother  of  those  who  love  the  beautiful  and  long 
to  give  it  permanent  form. 

When  the  bowl  for  the  Giver  was  finished,  it 
was  placed  on  a  stone  foundation  in  front  of  the 
stone  altar,  which  Ang  and  Wang  had  made.  At 
the  feast  it  was  filled  with  sparkling  water  from 
a  spring  near  by,  and  as  the  men  danced  about  the 
fire  they  dipped  their  hands  in  it  as  they  passed 
by  and  sprinkled  the  water  on  the  fire  and  on 
themselves  and  sang: 

Singing  water  of  the  brook, 
Shining  laughter  of  the  wood, 

Talking  picture  of  the  clay, 
Earth  and  fire  and  water,  all 

Are  voices  of  the  Great. 

All  who  saw  the  great  bo\vl  which  Suta  had 
made  were  filled  with  wonder,  and  they  wanted 
her  to  make  something  for  them.  Then  the  great 
idea  came  to  Wang.  Now  Wang  was  not  so 
strong  as  Ang  or  so  good  a  hunter,  but  he  wanted 
just  as  much  to  eat  and  just  as  warm  furs  to  wear. 
He  liked  better  to  sit  talking  with  some  crony,  in 
the  shade  in  summer  or  by  the  fire  in  winter. 
Talking  and  sitting  were  the  two  things  of  which 
he  never  tired.  Now  when  the  world  was  young 
such  men  went  hungry  and  cold,  and  Wang  had 
done  so  often,  and,  more  's  the  pity,  Suta  and  little 
Sut;  but  then  came  the  idea.  Every  one  wanted 
Suta's  clay  dishes ;  he  wanted  deer's  meat  and  bear's, 
26 


THE    FIRST    POTTER 

and  furs,  and  the  choicest  seeds  and  nuts.  He  would 
barter  the  things  which  Suta  made  for  the  things 
lie  wanted.  Suta  would  do  the  work ;  others  would 
bring  food  anoTurs  and  fruits ;  he  would  sit  in 
front  of  the  cave  and  give  as  little  of  the  first 
for  as  much  of  the  second  as  possible.  And  the 
idea  worked.  Suta  loved  to  mold  the  plastic  clay 
and  decorate  it.  Many  wanted  the  things  which  she 
had  made,  and  Wang's  wily  tongue  multiplied  the 
number  of  those  who  were  willing  to  pay  for  what 
they  wanted. 

So  Wang  became  the  father  of  a  long  line  of 
traders,  and  the  Wang  family  had  more  food  than 
they  could  eat  and  more  furs  than  they  could  wear, 
and  Wang  grew  thick  in  the  belly  and  thin  in  the 
calf,  but  it  suited  him,  and  Suta  was  too  busy 
with  her  clay  to  care.  At  least  she  said  nothing. 
And  Wang^jhe  trader  became  almost  as  great  a 
man  as  Ang  the  priest. 

And  Oma,  wife  of  Ang,  grew  envious  of  Suta, 
wife  of  Wang.  And  she  grumbled  to  Ang:  "  Did 
not  you  find  the  Red  One  and  bring  Wang  and 
Suta  so  that  they  should  not  perish  from  the  cold? 
Have  you  not  fed  them  with  meat  of  your  own 
hunting?  Did  not  I  learn  from  the  Red  One  how 
to  harden  and  mold  the  clay?  Did  I  not  show 
Suta?  Do  I  not  work  harder  than  she?  Am  I  not 
a  better  cook?  Can  I  not  make  better  coats  of 
fur?  But  see,  little  Sut  has  finer  furs  than  Om 
and  is  fatter.  And  all  who  come  now  pass  by  our 
cave,  except  at  the  great  feasts,  or  when  they  are 
27 


AROUND   THE    FTRE 

sick  and  in  trouble,  and  go  to  talk  with  Wang  and 
look  at  Suta.  Is  she  so  much  better  to  look  at 
than  Oma?  " 

But  Ang  comforted  her  with  wisdom  that  had 
come  from  long  broodings  under  the  shadow  of  the 
Keeper  of  Secrets.  '  The  Giver  has  differing  gifts. 
To  the  fire  he  gives  one,  to  the  water  another,  to 
the  earth  another.  To  Suta  he  gave  the  love  of 
beauty;  to  you  he  gave  the  love  of  doing  and 
making;  and  the  joy  of  doing  is  greater  than  the 
joy  of  having.  To  each  her  gifts  as  the  Great  One 
wills.  And  I  would  rather  be  the  man  of  Oma 
than  of  Suta."  So  Oma  was  comforted,  though  she 
often  sighed  wistfully  as  she  saw  men  and  women 
go  by  to  the  cave  of  Wang  or  watched  Suta  deftly 
mold  some  new  thought  into  the  yielding  clay. 


28 


THE    FIRST    GANG 


I 


III.  THE   FIRST  GANG 

THE  years  went  by,  and  Om  and  Sut  were 
almost  men.  They  had  trapped  the  smaller 
animals,  now  and  then  shooting  a  deer  with  their 
arrows  or  driving  one  into  a  pitfall.  But  now  they 
aspired  to  bigger  game.  They  wanted  to  sit  with 
the  men  about  the  campfire,  to  be  treated  by  the 
women,  and  especially  by  the  girls  of  their  own  age, 
as  if  they  were  grown  up.  And  there  was  just  one 
way  to  demonstrate  to  the  satisfaction  of  all  that 
they  had  arrived  at  man's  estate,  and  that  was  to 
prove  themselves  hunters  strong  enough  and  cunning 
enough  to  match  their  wits  and  weapons  against 
the  strength  and  fury  of  the  bear  and  the  wild 
buffalo. 

They  spent  long  days  in  the  woods  together  plan- 
ning and  contriving.  They  provided  themselves 
with  bows  of  the  strongest  and  arrows  of  the  sharp- 
est, with  saw-edged  knives,  lances,  and  stone  axes. 
For  hours  they  shot  at  a  mark,  taking  turns  and 
criticizing  each  other's  shooting  and  handling  of 
the  bow.  Sometimes  the  men  found  them  and 
smiled  at  them  indulgently.  But  the  women  and 
girls  laughed  and  jibed  at  the  boys  and  pretended 
to  be  very  much  alarrjied  at  the  idea  of  two  smooth- 
31 


AROUND    THE    F1UE 

faced  boys  going  hunting  alone  in  tlie  woods.  That 
made  the  boys  work  all  the  harder  and  keep  more 
and  more  by  themselves. 

Now  in  a  valley,  some  distance  away,  there  was 
a  herd  of  wild  buffalo,  the  most  dreaded  of  all  the 
wild  beasts.  The  bear  was  ugly  only  when  hungry 
or  wounded.  The  leopards  rarely  attacked  men  in 
the  daylight  and  in  the  open.  Even  the  wolves 
did  not  like  to  fight  men  unless  they  could  take 
them  at  a  disadvantage.  But  the  buffalo  bulls 
seemed  to  have  in  their  breasts  the  concentrated  fury 
of  all  the  savage  creatures  of  the  wild.  They  feared 
nothing.  Their  thick  hide  and  powerful  muscles 
defended  their  vital  parts  from  the  arrows  and  spears 
of  men.  They  would  charge  at  sight,  and  when 
their  keen  eyes  did  not  detect  their  enemies  their 
sensitive  nostrils  did.  The  only  possibility  of  escape 
was  to  climb  the  nearest  tree,  and  sometimes  the 
mad  bull  would  lie  in  wait  at  the  foot  of  the 
tree  till  the  man  dropped  from  cold  or  exhaustion. 
Many  men  had  been  already  killed.  Even  the 
boldest  and  the  hardiest  rarely  ventured  near  the 
buffalo  valley.  The  boys  were  warned  from  it  as 
from  sure  death. 

For  that  reason,  perhaps,  it  had  a  peculiar  fasci- 
nation for  Om  and  Sut.  They  talked  about  it  and 
dreamed  about  it.  They  climbed  hills  from  which 
they  could  look  down  into  it.  They  never  forgot 
the  time  when  they  first  saw  the  herd  in  the  dis- 
tance, the  bulls  feeding  on  the  outside,  the  cows 
and  calves  on  the  inside.  Now  and  then  some  young 
32 


THE    FIRST    GANG 

bull  would  get  too  bold  and  rouse  the  anger  of 
one  of  the  kings  of  the  herd  and  there  would  be 
a  terrible  battle.  When  the  dust  hid  the  lighters 
from  the  boys'  sight,  they  could  hear  the  terrible 
bellovvings. 

As  time  went  on,  buffalo  valley  had  a  greater 
and  greater  attraction  for  the  boys.  They  ventured 
nearer  and  nearer.  They  lay  on  the  bluffs  over- 
looking the  Valley  and  boasted  to  each  other  how 
they  would  kill  a  bullock  and  carry  it  back  to  their 
cave  homes ;  and  they  imagined  how  envious  the  men 
.  and  boys  who  had  been  afraid  would  be  and  how 
humble  the  girls. 

But  one  day  they  ventured  a  little  too  near,  and 
a  stray  bullock  caught  sight  of  the  boys  and  im- 
mediately charged.  Each  boy  climbed  a  tree  with 
a  swiftness  which  did  credit  to  his  bringing  up,  and 
there  they  stayed  hour  after  hour  during  the  long 
day,  the  bull  watching  them  from  blood-red  eyes. 
Now  and  then  he  would  stroll  away  to  browse  and 
drink,  but  at  the  slightest  movement  would  dash 
back  to  the  foot  of  the  trees  where  the  boys  roosted. 
As  night  came  on,  the  boys  grew  colder  and  colder 
and  hungrier  and  hungrier.  They  remembered 
tke  men  who  had  gone  into  the  buffalo  valley  and 
never  come  back,  and  they  wished  they  were  at 
home,  even  though  the  girls  did  laugh  at  them  and 
they  had  to  sit  back  of  the  men  at  the  fire. 

Finally  they  escaped,  but  by  good  fortune,  not 
by  any  prowess  of  their  own.  A  great  bear  came 
out  of  the  wood,  looking  for  something  to  fill  his 
33 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

empty  stomach.  He  had  missed  a  deer  as  it  came 
to  drink.  He  was  tired  of  roots  and  ants'  nests. 
He  wanted  meat  —  good  red  meat  and  plenty  of 
it.  When  he  saw  the  bullock,  he  hesitated  for  a 
moment,  for  big  as  he  was  he  usually  passed  bulls 
by.  A  fight  with  one  was  such  uncertain  business, 
and  even  if  he  killed  the  bull  the  appetite  was 
likely  to  be  killed  too.  But  the  bear  was  very 
big  and  the  bullock  not  very  large  and  he  was  out 
of  sorts  and  he  hesitated  too  long.  The  bull  spied 
him  and  charged  instantly.  The  bear  stood  on  his 
hind  feet  like  a  great  boxer.  As  the  bull  struck 
him,  he  gave  him  a  blow  with  his  great  paw  which 
would  have  broken  the  neck  of  any  other  animal 
and  buried  his  great  fangs  in  his  shoulder.  But  the 
bull's  sharp  horns  pierced  the  chest  of  the  bear  and 
bore  him  back  to  the  ground.  Deeper  and  deeper 
the  cruel  horns  reached,  while  the  claws  of  the 
bear  tore  great  strips  from  the  bull's  flanks.  It  was 
a  terrible  spectacle,  but  the  boys  were  too  near  to 
enjoy  it.  Quick  as  a  flash  they  slid  down  and  ran 
up  the  cliffs  above  them  like  two  monkeys.  At 
the  top  they  stopped,  panting  for  breath,  and  looked 
down  into  the  valley.  The  air  was  filled  with 
terrible  roarings  and  bellowings.  In  the  dim  light 
they  could  see  a  huge  brown  mass  rolling  back  and 
forth  below  them.  Now  they  thought  the  bear  had 
won  and  now  the  bull. 

•\S     By  and  by  the  dark  settled  down,  and  nothing 
could  be  seen ;    the  sounds  grew  fainter  and  finally 
all  was  still.     The  boys  did  not  dare  to  go  through 
34 


THE    FIRST   GANG 

the  woods  in  the  dark,  so  they  found  a  bed  of 
leaves  and  lay  down  where  they  were.  But  there 
was  not  much  sleeping  that  night.  A  leopard's 
shrill  cry  woke  them  from  their  first  doze ;  the  bay- 
ing of  wolves  from  the  next ;  and  when  a  great  owl 
gave  his  weird  wail  just  above  their  heads,  they 
gave  it  up. 

The  crackling  of  twigs  told  them  that  they  were 
being  hunted  by  some  night  prowler.  In  the  dark 
and  with  no  weapons  —  for  they  had  dropped  every- 
thing but  their  knives  —  they  were  at  the  mercy 
of  any  wild  beast  which  discovered  their  hiding 
.  place.  Then  Om  remembered  the  fire  which  had 
^  saved  his  life  when  a  child,  the  fire  which  no  animal 
was  bold  enough  to  come  near.  Could  he  make  a 
fire?  The  moss  upon  which  they  lay  was  dry.  A 
rough  flake  of  flint  which  had  not  been  shaped  was 
in  his  skin  pouch  and  his  flint  knife  was  in  his 
belt.  He  had  seen  his  father  call  the  Red  Spirit 
from  the  moss  by  striking  flints  together.  Once  or 
twice  he  had  succeeded  in  doing  it  himself,  but  it 
was  no  easy  task.  Still,  there  was  nothing  for  it 
but  to  try.  With  trembling  hands  he  gathered  the 
driest  of  the  moss  into  a  little  pile  and  pulled  to- 
gether some  dry  twigs.  Sut  got  on  his  knees  ready 
to  blow  the  smallest  spark  into  flame.  Om  took 
the  flint  flake  in  his  left  hand  and  struck  it  a  glanc- 
ing blow  writh  his  knife.  A  dull  spark  flew,  but  did 
not  light  the  moss.  Again  and  again  he  tried,  but 
in  vain.  Meanwhile  soft  but  ominously  heavy  foot- 
falls came  nearer  and  nearer.  It  was  now  or  never. 
35 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

In  desperation  he  struck  a  terrific  blow  which  shat- 
tered the  knite  in  his  hand  and  brought  the  blood 
to  his  battered  hand.  He  saw  nothing,  but  Sut 
suddenly  stooped  lower  and  blew  gently  and  then 
more  strongly.  A  tiny  glow  appeared,  a  wisp  of 
smoke,  and  then  a  red  flame.  Om  crouched  by  the 
fire,  exhausted,  speechless,  and  helpless;  but  Sut 
skillfully  fed  the  growing  flames  till  they  leaped 
high,  and  the  hunter  in  the  dark  leaped  away  with 
great  bounds  into  the  deep  woods. 

All  night  the  boys  sat  by  the  fire,  hungry  and 
exhausted,  but  happy  and  safe.  In  the  morning 
they  looked  down  on  the  open  spot  below  them 
which  had  been  the  scene  of  the  terrible  fight  of 
the  night  before;  and  there,  still  locked  together 
by  horn  and  claw  and  jaw,  were  the  bear  and  the 
bull,  both  defeated  or  both  victorious.  A  fox  came 
out  of  the  bush  and  sniffed  at  the  pool  of  blood  in 
which  they  lay;  a  flock  of  red-eyed  buzzards  hov- 
ered in  the  air  above  and  finally  lit  on  a  dead  tree 
near  by. 

The  boys  were  looking  with  mingled  awe  and 
delight  at  the  bodies  of  their  savage  foes  of  the 
day  before,  when  a  brilliant  thought  came  to  Sut. 
"Om!  The  horns  and  claws!  We  will  take  them 
to  the  camp,  and  who  will  laugh  at  us  then !  "  No 
sooner  thought  than  done.  Down  the  cliff  they 
clambered,  forgetful  of  everything  but  the  coveted 
trophies.  At  the  foot  they  found  thc-ir  weapons 
where  they  had  dropped  them.  The  fox  skulked 
away,  the  buzzards  screamed  and  flapped  to  a  little 
36 


THE    FIRST    GANG 

more  distant  tree,  while  the  boys  hacked  off  with 
rude  knife  and  stone  bludgeon  one  of  the  bear's 
claws  and  the  horns  of  the  bull.  Then  they 
fled  up  the  cliff  again  and  started  hot  foot  for 
home. 

As  they  approached  the  stream  by  which  they 
lived,  Sut  began  to  hasten,  but  Om  went  slower 
and  slower.  "  Hurry,  you  snail,"  said  Sut,  "  the 
women  and  girls  will  be  pounding  the  meal  and 
making  ready  for  the  men  to  eat  and  they  will  see 
by  these  that  we  are  not  boys  to  be  laughed  at." 
"But,"  said  Om,  "we  did  not  kill  them;  we  ran 
away."  "  Oh !  but  we  don't  need  to  tell  all  that," 
said  Sut;  "hurry  up,  hurry  up!  "  But  Om  would 
not  hurry.  He  went  more  and  more  slowly  and 
finally  sat  down  to  think  it  out.  The  temptation 
was  a  very  strong  one.  Perhaps  all  they  would 
need  to  do  would  be  to  be  silent,  and  it  would 
he  very  pleasant  to  be  treated  like  mighty  hunters 
and  men.  But  the  trouble  was  that  deep  down 
in  their  hearts  they  would  know  that  they  had  not 
proved  it. 

Then  a  thought  came  to  Om  which  settled  his 
uncertainty.  If  it  had  not  been  for  Odin  who 
sent  the  bear  to  fight  the  bull,  and  sent  the  Red 
One  at  the  prayer  of  the  flints  to  drive  away  the 
leopard,  they  would  not  be  here  and  there  would 
be  no  story  to  tell.  Then  he  remembered  that  his 
father  had  said  that  the  Great  One  loved  truth  as 
he  loved  light.  He  turned  to  Sut  with  all  his  inde- 
cision gone.  "We  will  tell  the  truth!  We  will 
37 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

not  win  the  man-right  by  telling  a  lie."  Sut  grum- 
bled a  little,  but  yielded  as  he  always  did  to  the 
stronger  will  of  Om. 

^When  the  boys  came  to  the  river  bank,  there  was 
a  great  shout,  and  all  went  out  to  meet  them,  for  the 
villagers  had  grown  anxious  at  their  long  absence. 
And  they  were  pleased  that  no  one  laughed  at  them, 
not  even  the  girls.  As  the  boys  were  being  fed,  they 
told  the  story  of  their  adventures  amid  the  eager 
questionings  of  the  home  group.  The  horns  of  the 
bull  and  the  paws  of  the  bear  were  passed  about, 
and  the  older  men  told  how  large  the  bear  must 
have  been  from  the  size  of  the  paw.  Then  they 
told  stories  of  bears  which  they  had  seen  and  fights 
of  many  kinds  in  the  forest  till  Om  and  Sut  were 
all  but  forgotten.  But  Om  was  pleased  to  notice 
that  his  father  looked  at  him  with  quiet  approval 
in  his  eyes,  and  he  heard  him  say  to  Oma:  "  Our 
son  will  be  a  great  hunter,  for  his  feet  are  swift 
and  his  hands  are  strong,  and  his  head  is  chief  over 
them  all,  and  more  than  that,  he  is  beloved  by  the 
Great  One."  And  Om  was  glad. 

For  a  while  the  boys  brooded  over  their  adventure 
and  kept  away  from  the  buffalo  valley.  But  the 
horns  and  the  great  claws  kept  reminding  them, 
and  again  all  their  hunting  trips  seemed  to  lead 
towards  the  dangerous  valley.  Oma  had  tried  to 
make  Om  promise  that  he  would  not  go  there 
again,  but  Ang  had  said :  "  Do  not  make  him  prom- 
ise. He  must  prove  his  man-right  as  we  all  have 
done,  and  the  Great  One  loves  him." 
38 


THE    FIRST   GANG 

Finally  Om  said  to  Sut :  "  We  cannot  escape  the 
call  of  the  death  valley.  Something  tells  me  that 
we  will  either  leave  our  bones  there  or  win  our  man- 
right.  I  have  been  thinking  it  over, .  and  it  seems 
to  me  that  one  of  the  reasons  why  so  many  men 
have  lost  their  lives  there  is  that  they  have  not  used 
their  brains  and  they  have  not  worked  together. 
Why  should  n't  we  be  the  first  to  do  it?  My  idea  is 
this.  We  will  get  together  ten  boys  of  our  own 
age  and  we  will  have  only  those  who  will  promise 
under  the  sacred  oak  tree  to  hunt  together  and 
not  each  for  himself.  Then  we  will  choose  one 
who  shall  be  to  the  others  as  the  head  is  to  the 
hands  and  feet.  All  shall  obey  him.  When  we 
have  learned  to  work  together,  we  will  go  where 
the  cliffs  which  overlook  the  buffalo  valley  draw 
together,  and  we  will  pile  great  stones  where  a 
push  will  send  them  crashing  down.  Trfen  we  will 
keep  watch,  and  some  time  when  the  wind  blows 
up  the  valley  and  the  herd  is  well  up  to  where  the 
cliffs  are  too  steep  to  climb,  where  they  come 
together  like  two  streams,  we  will  pray  to  the  Fire 
Spirit  and  take  burning  brands  from  the  fire  and 
light  the  tall  dead  grass  at  the  opening  of  the  val- 
ley. Six  will  start  from  one  side  and  six  from  the 
other,  and  we  must  outrun  the  deer.  The  buffalo 
will  run  from  the  wall  of  fire  farther  and  farther 
up  into  the  narrow  part  of  the  valley,  and  when 
they  are  bunched  together  like  fish  in  a  trap  we  will 
hurl  down  great  stones  and  shoot  our  arrows,  and 
there  will  be  meat  enough  for  all  the  men  of  the 
39 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

north  country,  and  every  cave  shall  have  its  buffalo 
skin  at  the  going  in." 

So  Om  and  Sut  got  the  other  boys  together  with 
great  secrecy,  and  every  one  was  made  to  take  the 
oath  of  loyalty  to  the  gang  under  the  sacred  oak. 
And  Sut  was  chosen  Chief,  because  he  was  the  best 
talker.  Om  could  make  the  plans  and  carry  them 
out,  but  Sut  could  explain  them  to  others  so  that 
they  would  understand  and  want  to  carry  them  out. 
In  the  working  of  the  thing  Sut  did  most  of  the 
talking,  but  he  always  kept  his  eye  on  Om  and  did 
what  Om  wanted,  and  when  it  came  to  doing  things 
Om  was  leader. 

For  weeks  the  clan  scouted  the  valley,  often 
having  hairbreadth  escapes  when  they  ventured  too 
near.  It  seemed  as  if  the  wind  would  never  he 
in  the  right  direction  when  the  herd  was  at  the 
small  end  of  the  runway.  But  the  delay  was  a 
good  thing.  The  boys  learned  to  hang  together  and 
obey  the  commands  of  their  chief.  One  boy  nearly 
lost  his  life  by  disobeying,  but  the  lesson  was 
learned,  and  the  gang  hung  together  as  no  boys 
had  ever  done  since  the  man-story  began. 

At  last  the  day  came  when  the  look-out  reported 
the  herd  well  up  in  the  narrow  end  of  the  valley 
and  the  wind  blowing  up.  Nothing  was  said,  but 
by  common  consent  Om  was  leader  for  the  day. 
He  sent  Sut  and  five  other  boys  to  the  south,  while 
he  and  five  more  went  to  the  north.  Each  gang 
was  to  build  a  fire  where  the  smoke  would  not  blow 
\ip  the  valley,  and  dry  torch  sticks  were  made  ready 
40 


THE    FIRST    GANG 

to  light.  At  midday,  when  a  spear  driven  into  the 
ground  cast  no  shadow,  Om  shot  an  arrow  high 
into  the  air.  Each  boy  seized  a  torch  from  the  fire 
and  dashed  across  the  mouth  of  the  valley,  lighting 
the  dry  grass  as  he  ran. 

It  was  a  wild  rush.  Never  had  the  boys  run 
as  they  ran  that  day.  In  the  years  after,  they 
told  the  tale  to  their  children  and  grandchildren 
and  they  set  the  pace  faster  with  each  telling.  In 
less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell,  the  boys  had  spread 
their  net  of  fire  and  the  wind  was  drawing  it  for 
them. 

When  the  boys  reached  the  cliffs,  the  frightened 
herd  was  already  crowding  up  into  the  narrow  end 
of  the  wedge-shaped  valley,  fleeing  in  terror  from 
the  pursuing  wall  of  fire.  Then  the  boys  rolled 
the  great  stones  down  upon  the  seething  mass  below 
them ;  shooting  their  arrows  till  the  supply  was 
exhausted.  The  maddened  buffaloes  trampled  on 
and  gored  each  other  until  scarcely  more  than  half 
the  herd  escaped  alive. 

The  young  hunters,  exhausted  but  triumphant, 
danced  along  the  ledges,  filling  the  air  with  savage 
yells. 

The  next  thing  was  to  send  word  to  the  scattered 
homes.  Three  boys  were  left  to  keep  watch,  and 
the  rest  ran  as  if  running  a  race  to  carry  the 
news  of  the  feast  that  was  waiting  for  all  who 
would  come. 

Before  night  every  man,  woman,  and  child  within 
a  distance  of  twenty  miles  was  on  the  spot.  Old 
41 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

suspicions  were  forgotten  and  old  grudges  ignored, 
for  the  time  being,  at  legist.  A  great  fire  was  built, 
and  the  men  stripped  the  hides  from  the  dead 
buffaloes  and  the  women  rolled  them  up  to  carry 
away  for  tanning.  One  of  the  largest  of  the  bulls 
was  dragged  to  the  fire  and  roasted  whole.  Far  into 
the  night  they  worked  and  feasted.  Finally,  as  they 
stretched  themselves  about  the  fire,  exhausted  but 
satisfied,  Ang  spoke: 

"  I  have  seen  the  Cold  Spirits  come  and  go  many 
times,  but  I  have  never  seen  so  many  men  together 
as  now.  Men  have  not  been  like  the  wolves  who 
hunt  in  packs  or  like  the  buffaloes  which  feed  in 
droves  or  like  the  ducks  and  geese  which  come 
and  go  in  flocks.  Each  man,  with  his  mate,  has 
lived  apart  like  the  bear  or  the  lion.  There  have 
been  fear  and  hatred  between  us  because  each  man 
feared  that  some  other  man  would  spoil  his  hunt 
or  rob  his  traps.  And  we  have  lived  far  apart. 
To-night  we  sit  about  the  same  fire  as  some  of 
us  have  sat  before  at  the  feasts  of  the  Great  One. 
As  I  look  into  the  fire,  into  the  cave  of  the  Red 
One  within  it,  I  see  that  whenever  men  come  to- 
gether to  hunt,  to  feast,  and  there  is  no  hatred  in 
their  hearts,  it  is  a  feast  of  Odin.  I  have  told  you 
many  times  before  of  the  will  of  him  whose  voice 
I  am  as  I  watch  the  tongues  of  flame.  It  is  his 
will  that  men  learn  to  live  together.  These  boys 
have  heard  the  whisper  in  the  heart  which  we  have 
not  heard.  They  have  killed  more  buffaloes  since 
the  sun  rose  this  morning  than  we  have  done  in  all 
42 


THE    FIRST   GANG 

our  lives  and  our  fathers  before  tis.  They  have 
not  come  to  their  full  strength ;  they  have  not 
learned  to  shoot  as  far  or  as  straight  as  we  have 
done,  but  together  they  have  done  what  no  one  of 
us  could  do." 

Then  Ang  picked  some  long  grasses  from  a  tuft 
beside  him  and  took  out  a  single  one.  Holding  it 
where  all  could  see,  he  snapped  it  as  if  it  were  a 
spider's  web ;  then  he  put  two  together  and  snapped 
them ;  afterward  more  and  more  until  he  had  twisted 
a  rope  of  grass  which  the  strongest  man  could  not 
break.  He  passed  it  about  the  circle,  and  each 
tried  in  vain  to  break  it.  Then  Ang  took  it  and 
held  it  high  above  his  head  where  all  could  see, 
the  women  and  boys  as  well  as  the  men.  '  The 
single  grass  which  the  child  can  break  is  man 
alone ;  this  rope  of  twisted  grass  is  man  united." 

A  shout  of  assent  broke  from  the  group:  "  It  is 
the  will  of  the  Great  Spirit."  Then  Wang,  who 
had  been  restless  in  his  place,  leaped  to  his  feet: 
"  If  we  are  to  hunt  together  like  the  wolf,  we  must 
learn  from  him.  Each  pack  has  its  head  which  all 
the  others  obey.  When  the  geese  fly  to  the  south, 
a  great  bird  who  is  wise  always  leads  the  flock.  Let 
us  learn  from  the  beasts  and  the  birds.  Who  shall 
be  our  chief?  " 

They  all  looked  at  Ang,  and  some  one  said, 
"  Let  Ang  be  our  chief."  But  Ang  shook  his  head : 
"  I  have  told  you  for  many  years  the  will  of  Odin. 
I  will  do  so  still  as  I  see  it  in  the  fire  or  hear  it 
in  the  whisper  to  the  heart,  but  my  eyes  do  not 
43 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

see  as  they  did,  my  feet  are  not  so  swift  in  the 
chase,  or  my  hands  so  strong  at  the  kill.  The  head 
of  the  wolf  pack  is  the  strongest  and  the  most  cun- 
ning, not  the  oldest.  The  whisper  within  tells  me 
that  it  is  not  time  to  choose  a  chief  to-night.  He 
must  be  proven  first." 

The  men  looked  about  on  each  other  and  knew 
that  the  words  of  Ang  were  wise.  There  was  no 
one  that  they  could  all  follow  without  question. 
The  time  to  choose  had  not  come  yet.  It  came 
when  —  But  that  is  a  tale  for  another  telling. 
\C  Then  Om  and  Sut  and  the  boys  who  had  fol- 
lowed them  were  brought  into  the  men's  circle 
by  the  fire,  and  they  told  the  story  of  how  they 
had  trapped  the  buffalo.  It  was  Sut  who  told  the 
story,  and  his  eyes  shone  like  stars  and  his  voice 
bubbled  like  the  brook.  As  he  talked  on,  Wang 
would  wag  his  head  now  and  then,  as  much  as  to 
say:  "See!  like  father,  like  son."  The  girls  lis- 
tened eagerly  to  Sut,  but  the  older  ones  looked  at 
Om,  who  sat  a  little  back  where  the  light  did  not 
shine  so  brightly  on  his  face,  and  nodded  their 
heads  and  said  to  each  other,  "  Some  day,  perhaps, 
if  the  Great  One  wills." 

From  that  time  on  men  began  to  do  things 
together  as  they  had  never  done  before.  They 
hunted  together  and  fished  together.  Groups  of 
related  and  friendly  families  lived  near,  in  favored 
spots,  as  Ang  and  Wang  had  done.  And  they  had 
more  to  eat  and  more  to  wear.  Fewer  lost  their 
lives  in  hunting  the  more  dangerous  animals.  The 
44 


THE    FIRST    GANG 

women  and  children  were  safer  in  the  little  vil- 
lages than  they  had  been  in  their  lonely  caves  and 
huts. 

And  Om  and  Sut  were  remembered  in  the  sagas 
of  the  tribe  as  those  who  taught  men  how  to  live 
together. 


45 


THE    FIRST    CHIEF 


IV.  THE   FIRST  CHIEF 

THE  years  went  by,  and  Om  and  Sut  and  their 
fellows  became  men.  Their  muscles  hardened 
and  the  beard  came  upon  their  faces,  and  when 
they  spoke  at  the  council  fire  older  men  listened. 
They  had  grown  more  strong  and  more  cunning. 
They  had  learned  to  hunt  together  so  well  that 
no  one  was  hungry  or  without  warm  skins  for  his 
back  and  his  bed.  Some  of  them  had  taken  mates 
from  the  girls  who  had  ceased  to  laugh  at  them 
after  the  great  slaughter  at  Death  Valley.  But 
Om  and  Sut  seemed  to  be  enough  for  each  other. 
Day  and  night  they  were  always  together. 

Oma  grew  anxious  and  said :  "  The  years  go  by  and 
you  take  no  mate.  It  is  not  the  man  custom.  There 
are  many  girls.  I  will  choose  one."  But  Om  shook 
his  head.  "  When  Freya  shows  me  one  like  Oma, 
but  not  before."  And  the  mother  could  say  no  more. 

One  year,  as  the  cold  grew  stronger,  disturbing 
rumors  came  to  the  village  of  Angwang.  Some 
young  hunters  who  had  gone  far  to  the  east  had 
seen  fires  at  night  a  long  way  off.  The  next  night 
the  fires  had  been  nearer.  Then  Ang  remembered 
that  his  father  had  told  him  that  many  days'  jour- 
ney to  the  sun-rising  there  were  other  men  not  like 
49 


AROUND    THE    FIRE 

themselves.  Their  hair  was  black,  coarse,  and 
straight,  their  cheek  bones  high  and  wide,  and  they 
hunted  men  as  well  as  beasts.  They  killed  the 
men  and  the  children  and  took  away  the  women. 
They  came  like  the  great  tempest  and  left  none 
behind  to  tell  whence  they  came  or  whither  they 
had  gone.  By  a  common  instinct  all  the  scattered 
families  and  groups  gathered  at  Angwang.  Men 
feared  to  go  far  to  hunt.  The  terror  of  the  dreaded 
foes  grew  greater,  and  food  began  to  grow  more 
scarce.  Ang  called  the  men  together  to  take  coun- 
sel. They  did  not  dare  build  a  fire,  for  fear  it 
should  be  seen. 

"  The  time  has  come,"  said  Ang,  "  for  the  men 
to  have  a  chief.  Who  shall  he  be?  "  "  Let  the  one 
who  can  save  us  from  the  red  men  be  our  chief," 
cried  some  one.  Many  talked,  and  many  at  the 
same  time,  but  no  one  seemed  •  to  know  what 
to  do,  and  the  fear  grew.  At  last  Om,  who  had 
been  silent,  stood  up,  and  all  listened.  "  I  have  been 
silent  because  I  am  not  so  wise  as  many  of  you. 
I  speak  now,  not  because  I  am  wiser  than  the  old 
men,  but  because  I  am  freer.  I  have  no  women  or 
children  in  my  cave  to  starve  or  be  fed  by  others 
if  I  am  killed.  I  and  some  who  are  like  me  will 
go  and  see  who  these  men  are  whose  terror  has 
fallen  upon  us  till  we  shake  like  the  rushes  by  the 
river  bank  when  the  wind  blows  upon  them.  Who 
will  go  with  me  ?  " 

Sut  and  Lack  rose  and  joined  Om,  and  together 
they  slipped  away  in  the  darkness.  They  stopped 
50 


OM,    THE    CHIEF 

under  the  sacred  oak  to  make  tlicir  plans.  They 
would  travel  by  night  and  watch  from  hill  tops 
and  high  trees  by  day  and  learn  what  these  men 
from  the  east  were  like  and  what  they  wanted. 

They  provided  themselves  with  three  days'  food 
and  their  finest  weapons.  Under  the  leadership  of 
Om  they  journeyed  all  night  and  part  of  the  next 
day  toward  the  east,  but  saw  nothing.  After  a 
few  hours'  rest  they  kept  on  through  most  of  the 
second  night.  On  the  morning  of  the  second  day 
they  reached  the  top  of  the  Black  Hills,  and  from 
the  highest  peaks  they  could  see  still  another  day's 
journey  to  the  east.  At  first  nothing  could  be 
seen  but  the  wide  expanse  of  forest,  threaded  here 
and  there  by  streams,  with  occasional  meadows  by 
the  river  banks. 

As  the  mist  gradually  lifted,  they  studied  with 
care  each  meadow  opening.  The  dim  haze  of  morn- 
ing gave  way  to  the  full  blaze  of  day,  and  still  their 
searching  eyes  found  nothing  to  arouse  suspicion. 

But  finally  Om,  whose  eyes  were  the  keenest  of 
the  three,  saw  on  the  edge  of  one  of  the  farthest 
meadows  what  appeared  to  be  a  herd  of  buffaloes  or 
possibly  wild  horses.  After  examining  them  as  care- 
fully as  possible,  he  noticed  that  they  did  not  seem 
to  move  about  as.  a  group  of  wild  animals  would  do 
if  feeding.  Then  he  thought  he  saw  smaller  objects 
moving  in  and  among  the  herd.  What  could  they 
be?  If  they  were  men,  surely  the  buffaloes  or 
wild  horses  would  not  let  them  move  about  among 
them  in  that  way. 

51 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

At  last  the  moving  in  and  out  stopped  and  the 
herd  began  to  advance,  going  in  single  file  like 
wolves.  More  strange  still,  on  the  back  of  each 
animal  there  seemed  to  be  a  moving  hump.  The 
three  young  men  looked  at  each  other  with  ques- 
tioning and  dread.  What  could  these  strange  ani- 
mals be?  "  If  they  were  only  men,  I  would  not 
mind,"  said  Sut.  "  Let  us  go  back  and  consult 
with  the  wise  ones,"  said  Lack,  whom  the  fear  of 
the  unknown  was  gripping.  But  Om  shook  his 
head :  "  It  is  for  us  to  find  out  and  not  for  the 
wise  ones  at  the  village.  I  will  go  forward  and 
find  out  what  these  strange  animals  are.  If  I  do 
not  return  by  the  next  sunrise,  Lack  will  go  back 
to  the  village.  If  I  do  not  return  by  nightfall  of 
the  same  day,  Sut  will  return  also,  and  may  Odin 
help  you." 

They  tried  in  vain  to  persuade  Om  to  go  back 
with  them  or  at  least  to  wait  until  they  could  see 
more  from  their  lookout.  "  If  I  wait,"  said  Om, 
"  it  may  be  too  late  to  warn  the  villagers  —  if  it 
is  the  red  men  in  disguise."  So  he  took  his  share 
of  the  food,  and  having  fixed  the  directions  in  his 
mind  by  studying  the  sun,  the  slant  of  the  shadows, 
and  the  direction  of  the  wind,  he  slipped  down  the 
hill-side  and  vanished  into  the  forest.  Sut  and  Lack 
watched  him  anxiously.  Their  fears  grew,  after 
Om  had  left,  and  if  it  had  not  been  for  their 
love  for  Om  and  their  dread  of  what  would  be 
said  if  they  returned  alone,  they  would  have  fled 
from  the  mystery  they  dreaded.  It  was  Sut  who 
52 


OM,    THE    CHIEF 

finally  said,  "  If  Om  can  go  on,  we  can  at  least  stay 
the  appointed  time."  So  they  settled  down  to  that 
hardest  of  all  tasks,  waiting,  when  the  fever  of 
unrest  is  in  the  blood  and  the  legs  twitch  to  be 
going. 

Meanwhile  Om  was  making  his  way  through 
the  trackless  forest  with  the  skill  of  one  born  in 
the  wild.  In  the  excitement  of  rapid  motion  his 
fears  left  him.  He  picked  his  way  by  the  slant  of 
the  light,  by  the  moss  on  the  trees.  Sometimes  he 
climbed  a  tree  to  test  the  wind  and  see  if  he  could 
catch  some  guiding  object.  His  plan  was  to  strike 
the  river  on  whose  banks  the  meadow  lay  and  then 
follow  it.  If  the  strange  animals  or  men  were 
coming  east,  they  would  follow  the  stream.  At  the 
very  thought  of  them  a  chill  of  fear  crept  up  to 
the  roots  of  his  hair.  Hour  after  hour  passed. 
He  took  a  little  of  the  food  which  he  carried  and 
drank  often  at  the  numerous  brooks.  A  leopard 
in  the  tree  top  glared  at  him  and  was  about  to 
spring,  but  Om  was  gone  before  it  made  up  its 
mind.  Then  a  big  bear  sniffed  at  his  track  and 
the  leopard  decided  that  it  had  other  business.  Now 
and  then  a  pair  of  timber  wolves  would  follow  his 
trail  for  a  short  distance,  but  they  were  full-fed  and 
they  did  not  altogether  like  the  strange  man-smell. 

It  was  not  until  almost  nightfall  that  Om  reached 
the  banks  of  the  river.  Exhausted  with  the  day's 
journey  and  the  excitement,  he  decided  to  find  a 
sheltered  place  where  he  could  see  and  not  be  seen, 
and  wait.  If  the  dreaded  ones  were  coming  this 
53 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

way,  he  would  gain  nothing  by  going  to  meet  them. 
So  he  found  a  bluff  which  overlooked  a  small 
meadow  by  the  river  bank  and  lay  down  to  rest 
and  watch.  Overcome  by  fatigue,  he  fell  asleepr, 
but  was  awakened  by  strange  noises,  just  as  the  sun- 
light was  leaving  the  tree  tops.  Some  heavy  animals 
were  crashing  through  the  woods  and  drawing  near 
the  meadow.  There  were  hoarse  cries  —  men's 
voices,  but  unlike  any  that  he  had  ever  heard.  He 
peered  out  through  his  screen  of  ferns  and  looked 
in  fear  and  dread  at  the  fringe  of  the  forest  from 
whence  the  "strange  noises  came. 

The  crashing  and  shouting  grew  louder  and 
louder,  the  boughs  parted,  and  there  came  out  upon 
the  open  a  man  —  a  red  man  with  black  hair. 
Om  shuddered  at  the  size  of  him  and  his  savage 
look.  Behind  him,  led  by  a  rope  of  twisted  grasses, 
was  a  horse,  such  as  Om  had  sometimes  seen  on 
distant  plains,  wilder  even  than  the  deer;  but  this 
horse  followed  the  man  as  a  child  follows  its  mother. 
Behind  the  first  man  came  another,  and  another, 
each  leading  a  horse.  On  the  backs  of  some  of 
the  horses  were  lashed  skins  and  strange  dishes 
and  weapons.  Man  followed  man  until  it  seemed 
as  if  the  whole  meadow  was  filled  with  the  most 
savage-looking  group  Om  had  ever  seen.  Even 
the  men  whom  he  had  beheld  in  his  troubled 
dreams  as  a  child  had  not  been  so  terrible.  Last 
of  all  there  came  out  of  the  wood  a  horse  which 
was  also  led,  and  on  its  back  was  —  Om  rubbed  his 
eyes  and  looked  again  —  a  woman,  though  she  was 
54 


OM,   THE    CHIEF 

not  a  red  woman.  It  was  too  dark  to  see  clearly, 
but  her  hair  was  not  straight  like  that  of  the  red 
men,  but  waved  like  the  water  when  the  wind 
blows  upon  it  gently. 

The  horse  on  which  the  woman  rode  was  led  to 
the  very  center  of  the  meadow,  and  as  the  woman 
was  taken  down  Om  could  see  that  her  hands  were 
tied  behind  her  with  thongs.  Some  of  the  men 
made  a  rough  bed  of  skins  and  placed  the  woman 
upon  it.  Then  they  untied  her  hands  and  tied 
her  feet  together  instead.  Om  wondered  why  they 
needed  to  take  such  pains  to  keep  one  woman 
amongst  so  many  men.  Then  they  brought  food 
and  made  a  rough  screen  of  skins  about  her. 

The  men  tied  their  horses  where  they  could 
feed  on  the  grass  of  the  meadow  and  ate  from 
something  which  they  carried  in  skin  bags  on  the 
backs  of  their  horses,  and  then  they  lay  down  to 
sleep  on  piles  of  leaves. 

At ,  last  all  was  still  and  dark,  and  Om  lay 
and  thought  and  thought.  These  were  the  red 
men  who  hunted  for  men.  They  came  from  far 
because  the  four  feet  of  their  horses  could  carry 
them  and  their  burdens.  But  they  must  have  come 
from  a  country  where  there  were  many  meadows 
and  not  so  many  trees.  Here  a  man  could  travel 
faster  than  any  animal  with  four  feet  except  the 
wolf.  Why  should  these  men  of  the  plains  tear 
their  way  through  the  woods?  And  the  woman 
with  the  hair  like  Oma's,  with  hands  tied?  What 
did  it  all  mean?  Om  could  not  read  the  riddle, 
55 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

but  some  things  were  plain.  The  red  men  were 
going  straight  to  the  village  of  his  people.  In 
three  days,  or  four  at  the  most,  they  would  be  there, 
and  what  could  his  people  do  against  these  men? 
They  must  be  stopped  before  they  came  to  the  vil- 
lage. With  the  horses  there  was  only  one  way 
that  they  could  get  through  the  hills,  and  that 
was  by  a  narrow  pass  through  which  ran  one  of 
the  brooks  to  feed  the  stream  by  which  they  were 
camped.  The  red  men  must  be  stopped  there.  But 
how  could  it  be  done  ?  The  pass  was  a  day's  jour- 
ney; the  village  three  hard  days.  He  could  not 
stop  them  alone. 

As  he  lay  and  thought,  a  desperate  plan  came  to 
him.  The  horses  were  tethered  together  at  one 
end  of  the  meadow.  He  remembered  that  the 
ground  was  soft  and  the  stakes  were  not  driven  in 
very  deeply.  If  he  could  frighten  the  horses,  they 
might  bolt  and  pull  their  tether  stakes  and  be 
lost  in  the  woods.  That  might  delay  the  red  men 
till  he  could  send  word  to  the  village  and  get  help. 

Om  crept  down  from  his  hiding  place  and  crawled 
like  a  fox  towards  the  horses.  Every  now  and  then 
his  ears  caught  the  stealthy  sounds  of  other  creepers, 
and  he  wondered  whether  he  might  not  feel  their 
fangs  in  his  neck  before  he  had  accomplished  his 
purpose.  Sometimes  he  saw  yellow  eyes  in  the 
dark,  but  the  Great  One  must  have  been  with 
him,  for  nothing  harmed  him.  At  last  he  got  near 
the  horses,  who  were  snorting  uneasily,  afraid  of 
the  things  they  had  heard  and  smelled  in  the  dark 
56 


OM,   THE    CHIEF 

about  them.  Waiting  till  all  was  quiet,  Om  dashed 
at  the  horses,  with  blood-curdling  yells,  which 
seemed  to  combine  all  the  most  dreaded  noises  of 
the  wood,  the  shriek  of  the  hyena,  and  the  cry  of 
the  gray  wolf  as  he  leaps  upon  his  prey. 

In  an  instant  all  was  confusion.  The  horses, 
with  wild  snorts  of  terror,  bolted.  The  shouts  of 
the  men  only  added  to  their  fear,  and  they  dashed 
into  the  woods.  Om  did  not  wait  to  hear  what 
the  red  men  would  do.  Sight  was  impossible,  as 
the  night  was  moonless  and  there  was  no  fire.  As 
fast  as  possible  he  groped  his  way  along  the  river's 
bank,  now  falling  over  roots  and  tangled  vines,  and 
now  splashing  through  the  haunts  of  the  deadly 
watersnakes.  He  had  no  time  to  think  of  any 
other  enemies  than  the  red  men.  It  might  be  that 
the  hidden  enemies  of  the  wood  and  water  would 
forget  their  hatred  of  man  for  to-night.  At  any 
rate  he  must  get  on,  get  on! 

The  night  was  like  a  black  dream,  long  drawn 
out.  Sometimes  Om  wondered  dully  if  he  had  not 
dreamed  it  all.  But  as  the  morning  light  began 
to  filter  into  the  darkness  of  the  wood,  Om's  brain 
cleared  and  he  went  faster  and  faster.  If  the  full 
strength  of  man  when  men  were  young  had  not 
been  his,  he  would  have  fallen  by  the  way. 

When  it  was  light  enough  to  see,  he  climbed  a 
tree  and  looked  off.  The  stream  had  led  him  right. 
The  hills  loomed  above  him.  He  was  almost  at 
the  pass  through  which  the  red  men  must  go  if  they 
went  west. 

57 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

As  he  came  into  the  narrow  gorge,  he  noted  with 
satisfaction  how  the  rocks  rose  up  straight  on  either 
side.  The  men  would  have  to  go  in  wolf-file.  Then 
his  people  on  the  rocks  above  would  hurl  down 
great  stones  and  crush  them  as  the  bullocks  had 
been  crushed  in  Death  Valley. 

Before  the  sun  had  climbed  so  high  that  the 
tree  trunks  cast  no  shadow,  Om  reached  the  spot 
where  Sut  and  Lack  were  anxiously  waiting.  Lack 
was  sent  hot  foot  to  the  village  to  bring  the  men 
to  guard  the  pass,  while  the  others  remained  to 
watch. 

While  Om  had  been  gone,  Sut  had  set  some 
snares  for  the  wild  hares  which  were  very  numer- 
ous, so  that  the  young  men  had  food  for  several 
days  and  could  give  their  undivided  attention  to 
the  pass.  Om  went  to  the  eastern  entrance  and 
Sut  to  the  other  end,  and  they  rolled  all  the  loose 
stones  which  they  could  find  to  the  edge  of  the  cliffs 
so  that  they  could  be  pushed  down  on  the  red  men. 

It  was  strenuous  and  exhausting  labor,  and 
anxious  fears  made  it  even  harder.  Notwith- 
standing the  fierce  labor  of  pushing  the  great  stones 
into  position,  the  hours  seemed  to  drag  with  snails' 
feet.  Every  moment  they  expected  to  hear  the  din 
of  the  coming  of  the  red  men,  but  night  came  at 
last  and  there  was  no  sign  of  them.  By  morning 
the  villagers  would  be  there,  if  Lack  had  been  swift 
and  the  men  courageous.  Om  was  so  exhausted  by 
the  sleepless  night  and  the  terrific  labors  of  the 
day  that  he  fell  asleep  as  soon  as  the  shadows  began 
58 


OM,    THE    CHIEF 

to  fall.  Sut  found  him  lying  on  a  moss-covered 
rock  and  thought  him  dead  at  first.  Remembering 
how  long  he  had  been  without  sleep  and  how  much 
he  would  need  strength  on  the  morrow,  Sut  let  him 
sleep  and  kept  his  lonely  watch.  As  for  himself, 
sleep  was  out  of  the  question!  Every  nerve,  was 
tense  and  every  sense  alert.  The  crackling  of  a 
dry  twig  warned  him  of  the  stealthy  movement  of 
some  wild  animal,  but  he  dared  not  light  a  fire. 
He  leaped  to  his  feet  and  grasped  his  stone  axe 
at  the  sudden  hoot  of  an  owl. 

As  the  darkest  of  the  night  passed  and  gave  way 
to  the  dull  gray  of  morning,  Sut  also  fell  asleep, 
and  the  two  young  men  lay  as  motionless  as  if 
carved  from  the  rock  on  which  they  slept.  They 
saw  nothing,  heard  nothing.  They  did  not  hear 
the  crunch  of  approaching  footsteps;  they  did  not 
see  the  face  which  finally  looked  out  through  the 
screen  of  a  near-by  thicket  —  a  face  which  appeared 
and  disappeared  in  a  most  mysterious  manner. 

The  light  grew  brighter  and  still  the  men  slept, 
when  a  woman,  stepped  out  of  the  thicket  and 
sprang  lightly  upon  the  rock  on  which  they  lay. 
She  was  scantily  clothed  in  a  loose  tunic  of  deerskin 
which  was  torn  from  struggling  with  the  thickets 
of  the  forest.  Her  bare  arms  and  ankles  .were 
terribly  scratched  and  bleeding;  her  hair,  though 
she  had  evidently  tried  to  braid  it,  hung  in  wild 
disorder  about  her  face.  She  stepped  upon  the 
rock  as  lightly  as  a  leopard  and  stooped  down  and 
studied  the  faces  of  the  sleepers.  First  she  studied 
59 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

the  face  of  Sut,  but  turned  with  a  shake  of  her 
head  to  Om.  She  leaned  over  him  so  long  and 
looked  so  steadily  that  Oma  might  have  feared  for 
her  son  if  she  could  have  seen.  At  last,  apparently 
satisfied  with  what  she  saw  in  the  face  of  Om,  she 
kneeled  down,  and  with  her  face  close  to  his,  blew 
gently  on  his  closed  eyes.  Om  stirred  and  then 
opened  his  eyes  and  lay  perfectly  still,  looking 
up  into  the  face  of  the  woman  —  eyes  blue  as  the 
sky,  hair  yellow  gold  like  the  grass  of  the  river 
meadows  before  the  snow  comes.  It  was  like  the 
face  oi  Oma,  only  younger  and  more  beautiful ; 
it  was  the  face  which  he  had  seen  in  his  dreams 
and  which  had  made  the  faces  of  all  the  women 
of  his  tribe  seem  ugly.  It  must  be  a  dream,  but 
no,  she  breathed,  the  drops  of  morning  dew  were 
on  her  hair;  her  eyes  questioned  him,  challenged 
him;  he  had  never  been  able  to  see  the  eyes  of 
the  dream  woman.  The  blood  leaped  in  his  veins 
and  he  knew  that  lie  was  not  dreaming.  She 
had  come  at  last,  the  woman  for  whom  he 
waited. 

As  he  rose  to  his  feet,  the  woman  drew  back, 
putting  her  fingers  to  her  lips  to  signal  silence. 
She  pointed  with  her  bleeding  hands  to  the  east 
and  shook  her  clenched  fists  as  if  at  some  invisible 
enemy.  She  pointed  to  the  marks  of  thongs  of 
rawhide  which  had  cut  into  her  wrists  and  ankles 
and  to  her  bruised  feet.  Then  she  knelt  by  Om's 
side  and  put  his  hand  upon  her  head.  At  the  touch 
of  her  hand  Om  trembled  as  a  leaf  trembles  in  the 
60 


OM,    THE    CHIEF 

breeze,  and  then  he  stood  straight  as  a  young  fir  and 
raised  his  free  hand  towards  the  rising  sun.  This 
was  his  woman!  The  Great  Spirit  had  sent  her  to 
him.  He  shook  himself  like  a  young  buffalo  «si»g 
is  lair.  He  seized  his  stone  axe  and  waved 


it  above  his  head;  now  his  strength  should  be  as 
the  strength  of  ten. 

But  the  woman  still  knelt.  Om  looked  down 
on  her,  and  the  tide  of  love  and  pity  rose  till  it 
seemed  as  if  it  would  choke  him.  He  lifted  her 
gently  to  her  feet  and  made  her  sit  on  a  cushion 
of  moss.  He  brought  her  some  of  the  hare's  meat 
which  they  had  saved,  and  watched  her  eat  it  hun- 
grily. Then  he  brought  water  from  a  spring  in 
his  cupped  hands  and  bathed  her  poor  bruised  feet, 
(crooning  over  her  like  a  mother  over  her  first  born^ 
And  the  woman  followed  his  every  motion  with 
her  eyes  as  a  dog  follows  those  of  his  master.  Not 
a  word  was  spoken,  but  in  the  childhood  of  the 
race  lip  language  was  'less  needed  than  now. 

Om  did  not  need  to  be  told.  This  was  the 
woman  whom  the  red  men  had  carried  as  a  cap- 
tive. She  had  escaped.  She  was  his.  No  man, 
red  or  white,  should  take  her  from  him.  He  stood 
before  her  and  pointing  to  himself  said,  "  Om," 
and  the  woman  repeated  it  after  him  in  a  voice 
which  was  as  sweet  as  the  love  song  of  the  wood 
thrush,  and  pointing  to  herself  said,  "  Ulma." 
"  Ulma,"  breathed  Om  in  a  voice  so  low  that  it 
did  not  waken  Su1j(but  it  had  in  it  both  a  claim 
and  a  challenge.^  For  the  moment  Om  forgot  all 
61 


AROUND    THE    FIRE 

but  Ulma.  She  was  the  first  to  remember.  She 
leaped  to  her  feet  and  pointed  to  the  mouth  of  the 
pass.  Men  —  the  red  men  —  were  already  filing 
slowly  out  of  the  woods  and  approaching.  In  a 
Hash  Om  was  the  fighting  man  ready  to  give  his 
life  for  his  tribe  and  his  mate.  He  roughly  wakened 
Sut,  told  him  who  Ulma  was,  and  pointed  to 
the  red  men  entering  the  pass.  A  single  look  at 
them  was  sufficient  to  drive  all  other  thoughts  away. 
Even  in  the  dim  light  it  was  easy  to  see  what 
kind  of  men  they  were.  They  were  wolf  men, 
cruel,  relentless,  hunting  in  packs  and  fearing 
nothing. 

So  intent  were  they  that  they  did  not  notice  the 
approach  of  Lack  and  the  villagers  till  they  were 
almost  upon  them.  Every  man  who  could  carry  a 
weapon  and  could  make  the  journey  was  there. 
Ang  was  there,  and  even  Wang,  though  he  puffed 
and  panted  and  had  not  breath  left  to  speak.  Noth- 
ing was  said,  but  Om  was  recognized  as  leader  by 
common  consent.  Under  his  direction  the  villagers 
took  their  place  at  the  narrowest  part  of  the  pass, 
piled  great  rocks  along  the  edge  of  the  cliff,  and 
waited  for  the  coming  of  the  red  men. 

At  last  they  came,  all  unconscious  of  the  nearness 
of  an  enemy.  They  came  slowly,  for  they  had  to 
carry  burdens  which  before  had  been  carried  by 
their  horses,  and  they  were  evidently  in  a  very 
ugly  mood.  As  they  stumbled  along,  their  leader 
lashed  them  with  his  tongue  and  sometimes  with 
a  rawhide  whip  which  he  carried.  When  they 
62 


OM,   THE   CHIEF 

arrived  at  a  spot  where  the  sides  of  the  pass  came 
so  near  to  each  other  that  a  man  could  almost 
leap  across,  Om  gave  the  signal,  and  the  villagers, 
with  a  terrible  war-cry,  hurled  the  rocks  down 
upon  the  red  men.  They  ran  forward,  they  ran 
back,  they  huddled  together,  but  there  was  no  es- 
caping the  terrible  hail  of  stones.  No  thought  of 
mercy  entered  the  minds  of  the  villagers.  They 
were  fighting  for  their  homes,  their  women,  and 
their  children. 

At  last  the  shouting  and  groaning  ceased.  The 
crash  of  the  hurtling  stones  was  followed  by  no 
human  cries.  Nothing  could  be  heard  but  the 
complaining  of  the  brook  and  the  hoarse  cries  of 
the  vultures  who  were  gathering  from  far  and  near 
in  answer  to  the  call  of  blood. 

The  blood  lust  was  hot  in  the  veins  of  the  vil- 
lagers, and  forgetting  the  exhaustion  of  their  long 
journey  and  the  labors  of  the  morning,  they  clam- 
bered down  the  sides  of  the  pass  to  exult  over  the 
dead  bodies  of  their  enemies  and  to  strip  them 
of  their  weapons;  and  Om  and  Ulma  found  them- 
selves alone  with  Ang  upon  the  top  of  the  cliff. 
In  some  mysterious  way  Ulma  had  found  time  and 
the  means  to  braid  her  hair  and  wash  the  blood 
stains  from  her  face  and  hands.  Om  thought  with 
pride  that  no  woman  whom  he  had  ever  known,  ex- 
cept his  mother,  would  have  done  so.  Taking 
Ulma's  hand  in  his,  he  led  her  to  his  father:  "  Tin- 
Great  One  has  sent  her  to  me.  I  slept,  and  when 
I  awoke  she  had  come  with  the  light  of  the  sun. 
64 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

She  was  captive  to  the  red  men,  but  she  escaped 
when  their  horses  ran  into  the  deep  woods.  She 
is  my  woman ;  I  will  take  her  to  my  cave  and  she 
shall  be  to  me  what  Oma  has  been  to  thee." 

As  Ang  saw  the  young  man,  now  taller  than 
himself  by  half  a  head  and  more  powerful  than 
any  man  of  his  tribe,  his  breast  swelled  with  pride. 
There  was  none  like  him  among  all  the  men  of 
his  race.  And  the  face  showed  something  finer 
than  mere  brute  force.  Thought  had  already  be- 
gun to  shape  the  features  to  finer  mold,  and  love  had 
softened  and  refined  them.  At  last  the  Great 
Giver  had  sent  a  chief  whom  men  could  obey  and 
love,  and  he  was  the  son  of  Oma.  His  thought 
went  back  to  the  bitter  winter  before  the  gift  of 
fire.  This  young  giant  was  then  a  tiny  child, 
withering  before  the  cold  breath  of  the  snow  demon. 
Surely  the  ways  of  Odin  were  wonderful. 

Then  he  turned  to  Ulma  with  jealous  questioning 
in  his  eye.  Who  was  she?  Was  she  worthy  to 
be  the  mate  of  the  son  of  Oma,  the  beloved  of  the 
All-Father?  With  critical  care  he  studied  her  face, 
her  form,  her  bearing,  and  his  look  softened.  Of 
slighter  build  than  Om,  she  was  larger  than  the 
women  of  his  race.  Every  line  of  her  lithe  body 
suggested  power  as  well  as  a  certain  grace  rarely 
seen  among  the  women  of  the  young  world.  She 
was  fit  to  be  the  mother  of  chiefs.  But  his  eyes 
lingered  longest  on  her  face.  As  she  looked  at  Om 
and  then  at  him,  her  face  shone  with  love  and  a 
prophecy  of  things  to  come  which  stirred  the  heart 
65 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

of  the  priest  of  the  Fire  Spirit.  In  her  and  in  her 
children  should  be  fulfilled  the  visions  which  he 
had  seen  so  often  in  the  secret  cave  at  the  heart 
of  the  fire. 

At  that  moment  the  sun,  which  had  been  slowly 
climbing  the  eastern  slope  of  the  mountain,  looked 
down  upon  them.  A  beam  of  light  touched  the 
heads  of  the  young  man  and  woman  with  gold  and 
that  of  the  old  man  with  silver.  Pointing  with  his 
right  hand  to  the  sun  and  raising  his  left  in  attitude 
of  benediction,  Ang  said:  "Look,  the  Great  One 
smiles  upon  you ;  you  shall  be  the  children  of  the 
Sun.  Walk  together  in  the  light." 

For  a  moment  they  stood  in  silence  under  the 
benediction  of  the  light,  the  young  man  and  woman 
thinking  of  each  other,  the  old  man  of  things  to  be. 
Then  Ang  spoke  to  Om  in  a  tone  which  brought 
him  back  at  once  to  the  realities  of  the  present: 
"  Listen !  The  men  below  us  are  without  a  leader 
—  they  are  like  wolves,  like  vultures.  Go,  lest 
they  forget  that  they  are  men  and  Odin  forget 
them.  Leave  Ulma  with  me.  I  will  take  her  to 
the  cave  of  Oma  and  prepare  the  people  for  thy 
coming." 

It  was  just  at  nightfall  that  the  victors  came 
into  the  village  of  Angwang.  Ang  had  brought 
the  news,  and  all  were  ready  to  receive  them.  A 
great  fire  had  been  lighted  on  the  altar  of  the  Fire 
Spirit.  At  the  first  shout  of  the  coming  men,  the 
women  and  children  filed  out  of  the  village  to  meet 
them,  and  lined  the  path  on  either  side.  In  front 
66 


OM,    THE    CHIEF 

of  them  marched  Om  and  Sut.  Om's  eyes  looked 
straight  before  him,  forgetful  of  all  but  one.  Sut 
beamed  on  all. 

The  men  bore  on  their  shoulders  the  plunder  of 
the  red  men.  There  were  weapons  of  strange  shape 
and  even  stranger  material.  There  were  axes  and 
spears  of  something  that  was  harder  than  stone  and 
had  an  edge  finer  than  the  sword  grass.  There 
were  tunics  made,  not  of  skins  but  of  cunningly 
woven  fibers.  And  strangest  of  all,  they  led  behind 
them  a  horse,  which  followed  them  as  a  child 
follows  its  mother.  That  night,  as  they  sat  about 
the  fire,  the  strange  weapons  and  garments  were 
passed  from  hand  to  hand.  Sut  stood  upon  a  rock 
in  the  full  light  of  the  fire  and  told  the  story  of 
the  discovery  and  destruction  of  the  red  men,  and 
the  story  lost  nothing  in  the  telling.  Om  sat  3 
little  in  the  background  with  Ulma  at  his  right 
and  Oma  at  his  left,  while  Ang  stood  behind  them, 
looking  steadfastly  at  the  fire  with  far-seeing, 
prophetic  eyes. 

After  the  tale  had  been  told  and  retold  and  the 
curiosity  of  all  satisfied,  Wang  pushed  Sut  from 
his  rock  platform  and  made  the  speech  of  his  life, 
though  he  himself  wished  that  he  could  have  made 
it  longer.  But  that  was  impossible,  for  after  the 
first  sentence  no  one  listened  to  him  and  his  voice 
was  drowned  in  the  shouting.  In  fact,  he  was  even 
pushed  off  the  platform  by  some  girls  who  wanted 
to  see  all  that  happened.  He  would  have  resented 
it  had  he  not  been  so  fat.  And  this  is  what  Wang 
67 


OM,   THE    CHIEF 

expected  to  DC  the  beginning  but  which  turned  out 
to  be  the  whole  speech.  "  Let  Om,  the  son  of 
Ang,  be  chief."  Immediately  men,  women,  and 
children  shouted,  "  Let  Om  be  chief."  Wang 
started  again,  but  only  to  be  silenced  by  the  shouts, 
"  Let  Om  be  chief."  ' 

And  so  Om  became  the  first  Chief  of  the  men 
of  the  North,  and  Ulma  —  But  the  words  can  wait. 


68 


THE   SMOKE   WAY 


V.  THE   SMOKE  WAY 

AND  Om  took  Ulma  to  the  cave  he  had  dug 
in  the  side  of  the  hill  which  furnished  homes 
for  the  village  of  Angwang.  He  made  it  bigger 
and  finer  than  any  in  the  village.  "  He  is  Chief 
and  must  have  the  best,"  thought  the  men  who 
helped  him.  "  It  is  to  be  the  home  of  Ulma," 
thought  Om,  and  nothing  could  be  too  good  for 
her.  After  the  cave  had  been  hollowed  out,  it  was 
lined  with  stones  and  then  chinked  with  moss. 
In  the  warmest  and  driest  corner  was  a  couch 
made  of  spruce  boughs,  moss  and  leaves,  and  covered 
with  the  skin  of  a  great  bear  which  Om  had  killed. 
A  round  flat  stone  at  one  side  served  as  a  table. 
By  it  was  a  rough  stone  shelf  on  which  were 
baskets  woven  by  Oma  and  pots  of  curious  de- 
sign made  by  Suta.  On  still  another  shelf  were 
various  woman's  tools  given  by  women  of  the  tribe, 
for  the  wife  of  their  chief  must  lack  nothing. 
There  were  needles  made  of  bone  for  sewing  skins. 
Some  of  the  smaller  and  finer  were  made  from  the 
bones  of  fish  caught  in  the  river.  The  larger  were 
cracked  and  the  splinters  worked  into  shape  by 
grinding  them  on  rough  stone.  There  were  stone 
made  from  the  small  bones  of  deer  which  had  been 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

knives  of  many  shapes.  Some  were  used  for  cut- 
ting flesh,  others  for  scraping  skins,  or  digging  the 
marrow  from  bones.  The  women  had  given  their 
best,  and  nothing  was  lacking,  as  they  thought, 
for  comfort  and  luxury. 

On  one  side  of  the  cave  home  of  Om  and  Ulma 
were  hung  the  best  of  the  weapons  and  plunder 
taken  from  the  red  men,  axes,  spears  and  knives  of 
hardened  copper  or  bronze,  and  tunics  of  woven 
cloth  of  various  colors.  At  the  doorway,  where 
they  could  be  caught  by  one  rushing  out,  were  the 
tried  and  trusted  weapons  of  the  new  chief.  There 
was  a  wooden-handled  stone  axe  or  bludgeon,  made 
by  lashing  a  split  stick  to  a  groove  in  the  axe  head, 
with  thongs  of  rawhide.  There  was  a  bow  as  tall  as 
a  man  which  only  a  few  men  were  strong  enough  to 
bend.  A  quiver  was  filled  with  arrows  tipped  with 
flint  flakes  fastened  in  place  by  a  most  wonderful 
glue  which  would  resist  anything  but  fire.  Then 
there  were  flint  knives  of  all  shapes  with  handles 
of  various  lengths.  As  the  men  and  women  of 
Angwang  came  to  look  at  the  home  of  their  chief, 
they  felt  sure  that  he  had  all  that  heart  could  desire. 
There  had  never  been  any  one  so  rich  as  their  chief. 

But  Om  was  not  satisfied.  It  was  not  good 
enough  for  Ulma.  As  the  winter  came  on,  the  cave 
was  often  damp  and  cold,  and  the  heat  from  the 
fire  outside  did  not  penetrate  it.  Ulma,  whose 
home  had  been  in  the  south,  often  shivered,  and  it 
made  the  heart  of  Om  cold.  So  he  sat  before  the 
fire  in  silence  and  pondered.  There  were  things 
72 


THE    SMOKE    WAY 

which  the  wisest  men  of  his  tribe,  even  his  father 
Ang,  did  not  know.  They  did  not  know  how  to 
make  weapons  of  the  dark  brown  metal ;  they  did 
not  know  how  to  weave  cloth.  His  father  had 
learned  how  to  bring  fire  from  the  flint ;  his  mother 
had  learned  how  to  bake  the  clay  so  that  neither  fire 
nor  water  would  harm  it.  Perhaps  the  All-Wise 
had  other  secrets.  He  closed  his  eyes  and  talked 
to  the  Holder  of  Mysteries:  "Teach  me  to  keep 
the  cold  from  the  home  of  Ulma."  When  he  looked 
up  again,  his  attention  was  drawn  to  the  fire,  which 
burned  in  a  kind  of  rough  open  fireplace.  Three 
flat  rocks  formed  a  kind  of  chimney.  At  the  lower 
opening  the  fire  burned  more  brightly  than  any- 
where else.  From  the  top  the  smoke  streamed  out. 
Why  not  build  a  fire  in  the  cave  and  let  the  smoke 
go  out  through  a  hole  in  the  roof? 

The  next  day  he  made  a  hole  in  the  roof  and 
placed  a  flat  stone  in  such  a  way  as  to  keep  the 
rain  from  beating  down  into  the  cave.  They  built 
a  fire  inside,  directly  under  it,  which  burned  brightly 
so  that  the  cave  was  warm  and  light,  and  Om's 
heart  was  filled  with  pride  —  but  it  was  short-lived. 
The  wind  changed  and  the  smoke  filled  the  cave 
till  he  could  hardly  see  Ulma.  Finally  they  had 
to  go  out  and  crouch  about  the  fire  outside  till 
the  smoke  had  cleared  away  from  the  inside  of 
the  cave.  The  villagers  shook  their  heads  and  said 
to  each  other :  "  Om  is  a  great  chief,  but  even  he 
cannot  build  a  fire  in  a  hole  in  the  ground.  The 
Fire  Spirit  loves  the  open  air." 
73 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

But  Om  was  not  satisfied.  He  lay  awake  far 
into  the  night,  thinking,  thinking,  but  to  no  pur- 
pose. In  the  morning  he  went  to  hunt  with  a 
heavy  heart.  Ulma's  face  was  white  and  she 
coughed.  He  heard  the  dry  hard  cough  when  he 
stopped  at  some  distance  to  listen.  Each  cough 
seemed  to  strike  him  a  dull  blow  above  his  heart. 
He  started  to  go  back,  but  what  was  the  use? 
They  must  have  food. 

That  day  his  hunting  took  him  far  from  home 
and  it  was  night  before  he  had  made  his  kill, 
so  he  prepared  to  spend  the  night  in  a  cave  at 
the  foot  of  the  Black  Mountain.  He  dragged  the 
carcase  of  the  deer  which  he  had  killed  into  the  cave 
and  then  made  a  fire  at  the  mouth  of  the  cave,  strik- 
ing sparks  from  two  flints  into  the  dry  moss 
which  he  always  carried.  As  he  sat  by  the  fire 
warming  himself  and  broiling  some  of  the  meat  of 
the  deer  for  his  supper,  he  noticed  that  the  smoke, 
instead  of  going  up  outside  the  cave,  was  sucked 
into  it  and  then  came  out  from  a  cleft  in  the  ledge 
higher  up.  Forgetful  of  his  hunger  and  weariness, 
he  leaped  up  and  went  into  the  cave.  It  was  warm 
and  dry  and  free  from  smoke.  He  had  built  his 
fire  directly  under  a  rift  in  the  ledge,  which  acted 
as  a  natural  chimney.  He  piled  more  wood  on  the 
fire,  but  still  the  smoke  went  up.  He  threw  green 
wood  on  the  fire  till  it  threw  off  clouds  of  smoke, 
but  it  all  went  up  through  the  crevice  and  left  the 
cave  free.  Here  was  the  secret  for  which  he  had 
sought.  His  heart  was  filled  with  thankfulness. 
74 


THE    SMOKE   WAY 

Om  slept  but  little  that  night.  He  started  up  from 
short  dozes  to  pile  fresh  wood  on  the  fire  and 
watch  the  smoke  as  it  poured  up  its  stone  channel, 
like  a  river  between  its  banks.  It  seemed  as  if 
morning  would  never  come,  but  it  did,  and  he  sped 
swiftly  home. 

When  he  appeared  with  the  carcase  of  the  deer 
on  his  shoulder,  he  was  greeted  with  shouts  of  wel- 
come, but  he  saw  only  Ulma.  As  she  broiled  some 
of  the  venison  over  the  open  fire,  he  told  her  of  his 
great  discovery,  and  his  eyes  eagerly  studied  the 
cave  and  the  hillside.  He  would  make  a  path  for 
the  smoke  like  that  in  the  cave  on  the  Black 
Mountain. 

Without  waiting  to  rest,  he  began  his  work.  He 
brought  flat  stones  and  piled  them  up  at  the  door 
of  his  cave.  Then  he  made  a  new  hole  in  the  roof, 
not  like  the  old  one  in  the  center,  but  close  to 
one  of  the  walls.  Finally  he  made  a  rude  chimney 
with  a  place  for  the  fire  at  the  bottom.  At  first 
he  worked  alone  and  the  villagers  looked  on  with 
critical  wonder,  but  at  last  they  were  compelled 
by  his  faith  and  helped  with  good  will. 

When  it  was  finished,  the  whole  tribe  gathered 
to  see  what  would  happen  when  the  fire  was  built. 
Would  the  smoke  climb  the  stone  path  as  the 
chief  thought?  For  the  first  time  Om  began  to 
doubt  and  he  hesitated  to  build  the  fire.  He  beck- 
oned to  Ang.  Perhaps  the  Spirit  of  the  Fire  would 
be  better  pleased  if  Ang  should  build  it.  So  Ang 
built  the  fire  with  great  ceremony,  and  the  people 
75 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

looked  on  in  awe  and  silence.  The  moss  and  dry 
sticks  were  carefully  arranged.  Then  Ang  took 
two  flints  in  his  hands  and  turning  to  the  east,  re- 
peated the  solemn  fire  chant: 

Spirit  Red,  Spirit  Red, 

Is  thy  hunger  fed? 
Spirit  White,  Spirit  White, 

Give  to  us  thy  light. 

Sparks  leaped  from  the  struck  flints  into  the  moss. 
A  tiny  spot  of  light  like  a  glow  worm,  a  flame  like 
a  red  tongue,  and  then  the  hungry  fire  roaring 
over  its  prey.  • 

The  tribesmen  gave  a  great  shout,  but  Om  looked 
anxiously  at  the  new-made  chimney.  At  first  the 
smoke  went  up  and  out,  but  with  a  sudden  change 
of  wind  the  smoke  began  to  creep  through  the  chinks 
and  fill  the  cave.  Om's  heart  sank  within  him. 
Wang  muttered,  but  so  that  all  could  hear:  "  I  told 
you  so.  You  cannot  drive  the  black  breath  of  the 
fire  as  you  would  a  kid." 

Thoroughly  discouraged,  Om  sat  upon  a  rock 
with  his  head  buried  in  his  hands.  With  tears  in 
her  eyes  Ulma  came  and  laid  her  hand  upon  his 
shoulder,  but  he  took  no  notice.  One  by  one,  the 
villagers  went  away,  saying  to  each  other,  "  It 
may  be  that  the  Spirit  of  Odin  has  left  him." 

For  a  while  Ulma  stood  silently  by  Om,  trying 

in  vain  to  comfort  him ;    then  she  turned  to  look 

at  his  work.     The  smoke  was  not  so  bad  as  it  had 

been  when  there  was  only  a  hole  in  the  roof,  but 

76 


THE    SMOKE    WAY 

still  it  came  out  between  the  cracks  very  badly. 
Womanlike,  her  thought  was  first  of  Om.  If  she 
could  only  stop  the  smoke,  it  would  bring  joy  to 
the  heart  of  Om.  Odin  had  showed  the  secret  of 
the  clay  to  Oma ;  why  should  he  not  show  the 
secret  of  the  smoke  to  her  ?  "  O  Thou  who  knowest 
the  things  which  are  hidden  from  us,  show  me  the 
secret." 

As  she  fell  on  her  knees,  she  touched  a  mass  of 
clay  which  she  had  been  molding,  and  the  secret 
was  hers.  She  leaped  to  her  feet  and  taking  the 
moist  clay  plastered  the  chinks  in  the  stone  chimney. 
When  the  last  one  was  filled,  the  fire  burned  bright 
and  not  a  breath  of  smoke  came  into  the  cave.  With 
a  glad  cry  she  called  Om.  He  looked  long  and 
earnestly  at  her  work,  but  longer  and  more  earnestly 
on  Ulma,  with  a  look  which  had  never  been  seen 
on  man's  face  before.  In  it  there  was  both  love 
and  reverence.  "  The  Great  One  has  shown  thee 
the  secret  that  was  hidden  from  me.  Thy  wisdom 
is  greater  than  mine,  as  my  strength  is  greater  than 
thine.  Thou  shalt  be  called  the  Wise  Woman." 

And  Ulma's  face  shone  like  the  sun  just  risen 
from  the  sea,  but  she  only  said :  "  Thy  heart  was 
heavy ;  the  Revealer  spoke  to  me  that  I  might  make 
it  light." 

Then  Om  called  the  men  and  women  and  chil- 
dren of  the  village  and  showed  them  what  Ulma 
had  done  —  how  the  fire  burned  and  yet  the  air  of 
the  cave  was  not  darkened  by  its  choking  breath. 
And  when  they  had  seen  what  she  had  done  he  took 
77 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

Ulma  by  the  hand  and  led  her  where  all  could  see 
her,  and  knelt  down  before  her  and  placed  her  hand 
on  his  head:  "To  Ulma,  wife  of  Om,  the  All- 
Seeing  One  has  given  wisdom ;  when  she  speaks, 
listen,  for  the  secret  of  secrets  is  hers." 

And  from  that  day  those  who  were  troubled 
and  in  the  dark  came  to  the  wise  woman  in  the  cave 
of  Om,  and  they  called  her  the  Seer,  for  she  saw 
what  was  hidden  from  their  eyes. 


THE    FIRST    MILKMAN 


VI.   THE   FIRST   MILKMAN 

AS  time  went  on,  the  village  of  Angwang  grew 
larger.  Not  merely  were  the  numbers  swelled 
by  the  children  that  came  to  the  first  comers,  but 
by  new  families  that  wanted  the  comradeship  and 
comparative  safety  of  the  village  life.  Yet  there 
was  one  difficulty  which  increased  with  the  size  of 
the  village.  Game  grew  more  and  more  scarce, 
the  hunters  had  to  go  farther  and  farther  for  it, 
and  the  supply  of  edible  fruits  and  nuts  within 
reach  of  the  village  was  not  equal  to  the  demand. 
It  became  clear  to  Om  and  the  elders  of  the  vil- 
lage that  something  must  be  done.  Either  the  vil- 
lagers must  scatter  or  they  must  move  to  a  new 
hunting  ground.  But  they  dreaded  to  do  either. 
They  had  grown  attached  to  their  pleasant  homes 
by  the  river  and  did  not  want  to  go  back  to  the 
old  separation  and  solitude.  So  they  lingered  on, 
and  the  food  supply  grew  less,  and  hunger  often 
gripped  them  and  the  shadow  of  famine  hung  over 
them.  The  men  went  on  hunting  trips  that  lasted 
for  days  and  the  women  saved  every  scrap  of  food, 
but  more  and  more  went  hungry. 

Something  must  be  done.     Om  and  the  hardier 
men   took  long  journeys  looking   for  new  hunting 
81 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

grounds  and  village  sites  where  nuts  and  fruits  and 
wild  grains  were  more  plentiful.  On  one  of  these 
trips  they  followed  the  river  many  days'  journey. 
As  they  went  on,  the  country  became  more  and 
more  open.  The  river  meadows  spread  out  wider 
and  were  covered  with  grasses  bearing  sweet  grain 
which  satisfied  hunger.  Great  flocks  of  wild  fowl 
fed  upon  them  and  grew  fat.  They  were  so  taint 
that  Om  and  his  companions  killed  large  numbers  of 
them  and  feasted  until  it  seemed  as  if  they  could 
never  be  hungry  again.  Here  was  food  enough  and 
to  spare,  but  it  was  many  days'  travel  frorr!  the 
village  and  there  were  no  sheltering  hills.  So  they 
returned  to  the  village  carrying  some  of  the  wild 
grain  and  as  much  of  the  wild  fowl  as  they  could. 
The  night  after  they  returned  all  the  villagers 
gathered  about  the  campfire  and  feasted  upon  roasted 
ducks  and  geese  and  tasted  the  new  grain.  Some 
were  for  moving  at  once  to  the  plains  below,  where 
food  was  so  plenty,  but  the  wise  ones  shook  their 
heads  and  reminded  the  others  that  the  birds  stayed 
only  for  a  short  time  to  feed  upon  the  ripe  seeds 
and  then  went  on.  Then  the  grain  would  be 
scattered  by  the  winter  winds  and  there  would 
be  neither  food  nor  shelter.  But  Sut  and  some  of 
the  younger  men  were  not  satisfied.  The  village 
was  good,  but  plenty  of  food  was  better,  even 
though  it  might  not  last  for  long.  Then  the  spirit 
of  adventure  stirred  them.  Since  the  slaughter  of 
the  red  men  life  had  been  rather  tame  at  the  vil- 
lage. Finally  nearly  a  third  of  the  village  de- 
82 


THE    MILKMAN 

cided  to  go  with  Sut  to  the  plains.  Cm  longed 
to  go  too,  but  his  duty  was  with  those  who  stayed. 
His  father  and  mother  were  growing  old  and  had 
to  depend  largely  upon  his  hunting,  and  Ulma  nursed 
twin  boys  in  his  cave. 

It  was  a  sad  day  when  Sut  and  the  pioneers  left, 
perhaps  saddest  for  those  who  remained.  Ang 
watched  them,  as  they  filed  past  him,  with  a  sink- 
ing heart.  It  was  the  passing  of  the  old  order. 
He  knew  how  Om  fretted  at  being  one  who  stayed 
while  others  went.  Still  he  could  do  nothing,  and 
perhaps,  after  all,  it  might  be  the  will  of  the  Great 
One. 

Om  had  little  time  for  brooding.  It  is  true 
there  were  less  mouths  to  feed  in  the  village,  but 
there  were  also  fewer  hunters.  Day  by  day  he 
made  wider  circles  in  his  hunt  for  game.  The 
mother  must  have  more  food,  for  even  now  the 
boys  often  cried,  hungry  at  her  breasts. 

One  day  he  came  upon  a  wild  goat  with  two 
kids  pulling  at  her  full  udder.  As  he  was  in- 
stinctively drawing  the  string  of  his  great  bow  to 
send  the  death  dart  to  the  goat  mother's  heart, 
something  stopped  him,  it  may  be  a  breath  from 
the  Great  One.  Was  not  the  goat  mother's  milk 
better  than  the  goat  mother's  dead  body?  Why  not 
take  her  alive  and  see  if  the  twin  boys  would  not 
thrive  on  her  milk  as  the  kids  were  doing? 

Om  lowered  his  bow  and  drew  from  a  skin 
pouch  at  his  side  a  curious  sling  made  of  two 
smooth  stones  attached  to  the  ends  of  a  bit  of 
83 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

rawhide  about  six  feet  long.  Grasping  the  con- 
necting thong  a  few  inches  from  the  middle,  he 
whirled  the  stones  swiftly  about  his  head  and  hurled 
them  at  the  goat.  One  of  the  stones  went  between 
her  hind  legs  and  her  fore;  the  other  went  in  front 
and  then  swung  back,  swinging  about  the  forelegs 
till  they  were  bound  so  tightly  that  she  could  not 
move.  In  a  moment  Om  had  her  fastened  securely 
and  was  striding  along  the  home  trail  with  the  goat 
on  his  shoulder  and  the  two  kids  bleating  behind 
him. 

Great  was  the  surprise  in  the  village  when  Om 
appeared  with  a  live  goat  on  his  shoulder.  No  one 
had  done  anything  of  the  kind  before.  Why  not 
kill  and  eat  it  at  once,  as  men  had  always  done? 
Many  were  hungry  and  smacked  their  lips,  thinking 
how  good  goat's  meat  would  taste.  But  Om  said 
nothing  and  strode  to  his  cave.  Ulma  came  out  of 
the  cave  with  the  twins  at  her  breasts.  The  first 
thing  she  noted  was  the  two  kids,  who  bleated  piti- 
fully at  Om's  heels.  Perhaps  the  hungry  cries  of 
her  own  children  stirred  a  new  sense  of  sympathy, 
and  she  said  to  Om,  "  The  poor  kids,  why  not  let 
them  live  ?  "  But  Om's  mind  was  full  of  other 
things.  He  pointed  to  the  babies  in  her  arms. 
'  They  are  hungry."  He  pointed  to  the  full  udder 
of  the  goat.  "  There  is  milk."  But  Ulma  started 
as  if  she  had  been  struck.  "  The  sons  of  Om  shall 
not  touch  the  breasts  of  a  goat."  She  stood  with 
flashing  eyes  straining  the  children  to  her  dry 
breasts.  Om  stood  silent  with  eyes  downcast.  He 
84 


THE    MILKMAN 

had  hoped  —  but  no  matter,  if  Ulma  would  not. 
He  drew  his  knife  to  kill  the  goat,  but  Ulma  stayed 
his  hand. 

Then  the  hungry  twins  wailed  more  pitifully 
than  the  kids,  and  Ulma's  mother  love  conquered 
her  pride.  Laying  the  boys  in  Om's  arms,  she 
hurried  into  the  cave  and  brought  a  small  pottery 
bowl  and  pushed  it  under  the  dripping  teats  of  the 
goat.  Then  she  pressed  them  with  compelling  fin- 
gers till  the  white  streams  filled  the  bowl.  Taking 
one  of  the  boys  from  Om,  she  put  the  warm  milk  to 
his  lips.  It  gave  a  surprised  sputter  and  then  drank 
faster  and  faster  with  great  gasps  of  satisfaction 
till  it  could  drink  no  more  and  fell  asleep  in  her 
arms.  When  the  brother  had  been  fed  and  both  lay 
sleeping  in  deep  content,  Ulma  turned  to  Om  and 
said  reverently,  "  Forgive  me,  it  was  the  gift  of  the 
All-Father." 

And  Om  made  a  long  tether  for  the  goat  and 
tied  her  where  the  grass  was  greenest,  and  the  kids 
gamboled  about  her  to  the  delight  of  the  children 
of  Angwang.  And  Ul  and  Ulu  grew  fat  and  rosy, 
and  the  heart  of  Ulma  was  light  again. 

By  and  by  the  goat  grew  used  to  her  tether  and 
the  kindly  hands  which  tended  her  and  stood  quietly 
when  she  was  milked.  And  one  day  when  her 
tether  broke,  instead  of  running  away  into  the 
forest,  she  fed  about  the  village,  as  if  she  had  made 
it  her  home,  and  liked  men  for  companions  better 
than  the  wild  animals  of  the  woods  and  hills. 

How  the  kids  grew  and  ate,  climbed,  skipped, 
85 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

and  ate  again!  They  raced  with  the  children,  and 
as  the  buck  grew  older  it  butted  the  smaller  ones 
so  that  they  found  it  safer  to  run  into  the  shelter 
of  a  hut  until  he  went  by. 

That  was  the  beginning  of  new  things  in  the 
village  of  Angwang.  As  time  went  on,  each  family 
had  its  small  herd  of  goats.  The  goats  fed  them- 
selves and  then  gave  food  to  their  owners.  And 
so  men  learned  that  sometimes  a  live  animal  was 
worth  a  dozen  dead  ones. 


86 


RANG,   THE    RED    MAN 


VII.  RANG,  THE  RED  MAN 

ON  many  of  his  hunting  trips,  especially  along 
the  banks  of  the  river,  Om  had  found  many 
strange  trails,  unlike  that  of  any  animal  he  had 
ever  seen.  The  trail  always  started  by  the  river 
bank  and  never  went  very  far  from  it.  There  was 
a  single  furrow,  such  as  would  be  made  by  dragging 
a  slab  on  the  ground  or  such  as  might  be  made  by 
some  huge  lizard's  tail,  but  there  were  no  footprints 
of  any  kind,  only  a  series  of  holes  on  either  side 
which  looked  as  if  they  had  been  made  with  a 
pointed  stick.  Sometimes  when  Om  set  a  trap 
near  the  river  the  strange  trail  would  lead  up  to  it, 
and  he  would  find  that  the  game  had  been  taken. 
At  first  he  saw  it  only  rarely,  but  as  time  went 
on  he  found  it  often.  He  set  traps  to  catch  the 
strange  animal,  but  though  they  were  often  tripped 
there  was  nothing  in  them.  He  watched  as  patiently 
as  a  wildcat  at  a  rabbit's  hole,  at  places  where  he 
had  often  found  the  mysterious  trail,  but  all  to  no 
purpose.  His  anger  and  curiosity  gradually  became 
tinged  with  that  most  ancient  of  fears,  the  fear  of 
the  unknown.  In  his  efforts  to  solve  the  mystery 
he  neglected  his  other  hunting  and  often  came  home 
empty-handed,  so  that  Ulma  soon  suspected  that 
89 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

something  was  wrong,  and  he  had  to  tell  her  what 
was  troubling  him,  as  men  have  done  from  the 
beginning. 

Together  they  puzzled  over  the  riddle  of  the 
strange  animal,  till  finally  Ulma  made  the  sug- 
gestion which  led  to  its  solution.  Whatever  it  was 
it  always  came  from  the  river  and  went  back  to  it. 
Its  home  must  be  on  the  river  or  in  it.  So  Om 
decided  to  go  far  up  the  river  and  drift  down  with 
the  current  on  the  trunk  of  a  fatten  tree. 

A  little  above  the  spot  where  he  had  often  seen 
the  puzzling  trail  he  found  two  dry  tree  trunks 
which  he  rolled  to  the  water's  edge  and  lashed  to- 
gether with  vines.  Then  he  cut  a  pole  and  pushed 
his  rude  raft  slowly  down  the  stream,  keeping  very 
close  to  the  rushes  and  making  as  little  noise  as 
possible.  Often  he  lay  flat  on  the  raft,  drifting 
slowly  with  the  current  and  steering  with  his  hands. 
Flocks  of  birds  rose  from  their  feeding  places  with 
a  deafening  boom  of  wings.  Turtles  splashed 
clumsily  into  the  water.  Water  snakes  writhed 
swiftly  away.  Great  fish  darted  away  with  a  flick 
and  flash  of  silver.  Now  and  then  a  big  lizard 
would  yawn  lazily  at  him  and  seem  to  estimate  his 
possible  food  value.  But  he  saw  no  trace  of  the 
creature  which  he  sought. 

The  hours  slipped  by,  and  night  slowly  spread  its 
mantle  over  the  sky.  The  cool  mist  of  evening 
began  to  rise  from  the  river,  and  Om  shivered, 
partly  from  cold  but  more  from  fear.  He  decided 
to  go  ashore  and  wait  for  morning,  when  the  heart 
90 


THE   RED    MAN 

of  man  was  warmer.  He  rose  carefully  to  his  feet, 
balancing  himself  with  his  push  pole,  but  he  could 
find  no  place  to  land.  At  this  point  the  river  wan- 
dered through  a  great  marsh,  and  a  good  half-mile 
of  treacherous  bog  and  reed  thickets  was  between 
him  and  dry  land.  Om  knew  better  than  to  try 
forcing  his  way  through.  If  he  could  avoid  the 
quagmires,  he  could  not  escape  the  dangerous  snakes 
that  swarmed  in  the  rushes.  There  was  nothing  to 
be  done  but  to  pass  the  night  as  well  as  he  could 
on  the  raft,  for  it  was  already  getting  too  dark 
to  see. 

So  Om  drove  his  pole  between  the  trunks  of 
his  raft  as  an  anchor  and  lay  down  with  his  leather 
pouch  as  a  pillow  and  the  rough  bark  for  a  mat- 
tress. But  it  was  not  the  hardness  of  his  bed  which 
kept  him  awake.  Strange  noises  were  all  about 
him.  The  reeds  rustled  as  if  some  great  body  were 
moving  stealthily  through  them,  and  he  sat  up  and 
grasped  his  great  stone  axe  with  every  muscle  tense 
and  every  nerve  alert.  Then  all  was  silence,  and  he 
lay  down  again,  only  to  be  roused  by  a  shrill  cry 
from  the  air  above  him  which  seemed  to  go  through 
his  heart  like  an  arrow.  Overcome  with  fatigue, 
he  dozed  for  a  moment,  only  to  be  stabbed  awake 
by  a  new  horror,  as  something  sinuous  and  slimy 
and  cold  slipped  over  his  bare  legs  and  slushed  into 
the  water. 

When  the  night  was  at  its  darkest,  Om  was 
startled  by  a  new  noise.  Some  large  body  was 
pushing  its  way  through  the  reeds  not  far  from 
91 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

him  with  a  strange  gurgling  noise.  Fresh  chills 
crept  up  his  back  and  pricked  the  back  of  his  neck. 
His  hair  seemed  to  stiffen.  He  tried  to  lash  him- 
self to  courage.  He,  a  chief,  son  of  Ang,  slayer  of 
buffalo  and  cave  bear,  destroyer  of  the  red  men, 
shivering  like  a  child,  afraid  of  the  dark!  But  it 
was  useless.  Even  a  chief  cannot  stand  before  the 
black  spirits  of  the  marsh,  unafraid. 

Gradually  the  noise  drew  nearer,  and  Om  de- 
tected a  faint  glow  like  a  bog  torch.  It  grew 
brighter,  and  finally  a  long  black  object  slid  out  of 
the  rushes  a  few  feet  ahead  of  him.  His  eyes 
struggling  with  the  darkness,  he  studied  the  strange 
object  until  he  caught  its  outline.  A  resinous  pine 
torch,  like  a  great  red  eye,  glowed  at  the  head  of  a 
long  hollow  log.  Near  the  stern  crouched  a  man 
pushing  the  dug-out  through  the  water,  not  with  a 
pole  but  with  a  paddle.  With  a  deft  turn  of  the 
wrist  he  brought  his  craft  into  the  current  and  passed 
within  a  few  feet  of  where  Om  crouched  on  his 
raft.  The  torch  threw  a  weird  light  on  the  face 
of  the  paddler.  It  was  the  face  of  a  red  man,  a 
•face  which  glowed  in  the  light  of  the  torch  like 
an  ember  in  the  fire.  The  bare  arms  which  wielded 
the  paddle  looked  like  the  bronze  of  the  red  man's 
weapons  which  Om  had  in  his  cave.  With  fasci- 
nated gaze  Om  watched  the  sweep  of  the  arm 
and  the  play  of  the  great  muscles.  He  had  never 
seen  anything  like  them.  One  who  came  within 
their  reach  would  have  no  more  chance  than  in  the 
hug  of  the  great  cave  bear. 
92 


THE    RED    MAN 

After  all,  he  was  only  a  man  and  he  had 
mastered  the  red  man  before.  The  blood  rushed 
through  his  veins  again,  and  courage  came  .back 
to  his  heart.  He  leaped  to  his  feet  and  drew  his 
bow,  but  the  night  dews  had  taken  the  life  from 
the  bow  strings  and  it  was  useless.  He  reached  for 
his  axe  to  hurl  it  at  the  red  man,  but  he  was  already 
beyond  reach,  and  a  sudden  bend  in  the  river  soon 
hid  him  from  view. 

Cold  and  hungry,  Qm  waited  for  the  morning. 
At  last  it  came  with  lagging  steps,  and  he  began 
to  study  the  marsh  about  him.  A  few  yards  ahead 
of  him  was  an  opening  in  the  rushes,  and  he  pushed 
his  raft  where  he  could  see  better.  There  was  a 
narrow  break  —  so  narrow  that  the  rushes  met  above 
it,  and  just  water  enough  to  float  the  red  man's 
dug-out.  Om  tried  to  push  his  raft  into  it,  but  it 
was  too  broad.  Then  he  stood  up  and  looked  over 
the  marsh.  In  the  waxing  light  he  finally  saw  what 
seemed  to  be  a  mound  of  rushes  rising  a  little  above 
the  level  of  the  marsh.  He  fancied  too  that  he 
could  see  the  shadow  of  an  opening. 

It  was  clearly  useless  to  try  to  get  there  by 
foot,  and  there  was  no  telling  what  he  might  find 
if  he  managed  to  force  his  way  there.  He  re- 
membered the  huge  arms  of  the  red  man.  Such 
men  must  be  respected  even  by  Om.  It  was  a 
problem  for  brains  and  not  for  brute  force.  He 
looked  about  for  landmarks  and  saw  on  the  shore 
above  the  marsh  a  great  fir  tree  nearly  a  hundred 
feet  in  height.  That  should  be  his  lookout,  and 
93 


AROUND   THE   FIRE 

he  would  study  the  den  of  the  red  man  from 
the  top. 

As  rapidly  as  he  could  Om  poled  down  the  stream 
till  he  came  to  a  place  where  he  could  land.  He 
took  care  to  bring  his  raft  to  some  stones  on  the 
bank  so  that  there  should  be  no  mark  of  his  land- 
ing, and  then  he  took  off  the  vines  that  bound 
the  logs  together  and  pushed  them  into  the  streajn. 
Leaping  from  stone  to  stone,  he  made  his  way  to 
the  high  bank,  leaving  no  trace  of  his  coming. 

After  having  visited  some  of  his  traps  and  fed 
himself  for  another  fast  of  uncertain  length,  Om 
made  his  way  to  the  tall  fir  tree  and  climbed  to  its 
top.  From  his  lofty  outlook  he  could  see  far  up 
and  down  the  river  and  across  the  marsh,  but  he  was 
disappointed  that  he  could  see  little  more  of  the 
red  man's  hut  than  he  had  seen  from  the  river  itself. 
There  was  the  mound  of  rushes,  standing  only  a 
little  higher  than  the  rushes  about  it,  a  small  en- 
circling pool  of  water,  and  that  was  all.  There 
was  no  sign  of  any  living  thing  to  be  seen. 

With  the  patience  of  primitive  man,  Om  waited 
and  watched  through  the  long  hours  of  the  day. 
A  great  fishhawk  lit  on  a  branch  above  his  head 
and  flapped  away  with  shrill  cries  of  fear  and  anger. 
Squirrels  chutted  viciously  at  him  and  went  their 
ways.  A  doe  and  her  two  fawns  rested  beneath 
him  during  the  heat  of  the  day.  But  there  was  no 
sight  or  sound  of  the  red  man. 

Again  the  shadows  began  to  lengthen,  and  Om's 
eyes  grew  heavy  with  long  watching  and  lack  of 
94 


THE   RED    MAN 

sleep.  He  propped  himself  in  an  easy-chair  of 
boughs,  intending  to  doze  for  a  moment,  but  fell 
asleep  and  slept  far  into  the  night.  He  woke  with 
a  start,  hearing  sounds  beneath  him,  as  if  some  one 
were  dragging  a  log  stealthily  over  the  ground. 
His  eyes  tried  in  vain  to  penetrate  the  darkness; 
he  could  only  follow  the  strange  noise  with  his 
ears.  Several  times  he  started  to  climb  down  the 
tree,  but  the  fear  of  the  unknown  checked  him. 

Finally  the  moon,  which  had  been  hidden  by 
black  clouds  along  the  horizon,  looked  out  with 
wide-open  eye  and  flooded  the  marsh  and  river  banks 
with  silvery  light.  With  the  eye  of  an  owl  hunt- 
ing for  its  prey  he  searched  every  open  spot.  At 
last  he  found  what  he  sought.  At  the  very  spot 
where  he  had  landed  the  morning  before  was  the 
dug-out  of  the  red  man,  and  a  little  higher  on  the 
bank  the  red  man  himself.  He  was  not  standing 
erect  or  even  creeping,  and  yet  he  was  moving  with 
considerable  rapidity.  He  lay  upon  his  belly  on  a 
flat  slab  some  eight  feet  in  length.  His  legs,  or 
what  was  left  of  them,  were  lashed  to  it,  and  the 
man  dragged  himself  along  on  this  crude  sledge  by 
driving  a  sharpened  stick  which  he  held  in  each 
hand  into  the  soil  ahead  of  him  and  pulling  himself 
to  it.  The  mystery  of  the  strange  trail  and  of  the 
robbing  of  his  traps  was  explained.  This  must 
be  one  of  the  red  men  who  had  escaped  the 
slaughter  in  the  pass.  The  useless  legs  which  trailed 
behind  him  had  been  crushed  by  the  falling  rocks, 
but  he  had  lived, 

95 


AROUND    THE    FIRE 

Om's  mind  was  filled  with  wonder.  The  red 
man  must  be  indeed  a  man  to  keep  alive  in  the 
wild  without  food,  without  friends,  with  only  his 
hands  and  his  head  to  help  him.  For  days  and 
weeks  he  must  have  suffered  untold  agony  from  his 
crushed  limbs.  Om  passed  his  hands  questioningly 
over  his  own  powerful  legs.  Could  he  have  done 
it?  He  shuddered  at  the  thought.  Only  tl^e  Great 
One  knew.  Involuntarily  he  paid  tribute  in  his 
heart  to  the  manhood  of  the  man  who  now  crawled 
like  a  snail  beneath  him.  He  took  his  great  bow 
and  the  straightest  and  sharpest  arrow  from  his 
quiver,  but  he  hesitated.  Surely  a  man  who  could 
only  drag  himself  along  on  his  belly  was  not  to  be 
feared.  To  shoot  such  a  man  from  a  safe  ambush 
was  not  worthy  of  Om,  chief  of  the  Angwangs. 
While  he  hesitated,  the  red  man  disappeared  in  the 
bush,  the  clouds  again  covered  the  face  of  the  moon, 
and  all  was  dark. 

Om  remained  in  his  fir  retreat  till  the  morning 
light  came,  and  slowly  climbed  down  the  tree,  look- 
ing carefully  for  signs  of  the  red  man.  Neither 
eye  nor  ear  gave  any  hint  of  him.  He  prepared  to 
swing  himself  from  the  lowest  boughs  to  the  ground. 
There  was  a  rustle  in  a  near-by  thicket,  a  hum  like 
that  of  a  giant  bee,  and  an  arrow  flew  past  him 
and  buried  itself  in  the  tree  trunk  with  a  sinister 
"  chut,"  pinning  a  flap  of  his  fur  coat  to  the  bark. 
Nimbly  as  a  monkey,  Om  put  the  tree  trunk  be- 
tween himself  and  the  dangerous  thicket  and  swiftly 
climbed  higher.  He  heard,  or  perhaps  it  was  his 
96 


THE    RED    MAN 

imagination,  a  hoarse  laugh  of  derision  from  be- 
neath him.  It  was  a  strange  position  for  Om,  war- 
chief  of  Angwang,  slayer  of  buffalo,  cave  man,  and 
of  the  red  men  themselves.  He  was  treed  like  a 
squirrel  by  the  snail  man.  His  powerful  limbs 
were  useless.  If  he  had  been  ten  times  as  powerful, 
he  would  have  been  just  as  helpless. 

Om  cursed  himself  for  his  folly.  He  had  thought 
himself  wise  and  a  great  hunter,  but  here  he  was, 
trapped  by  the  man  he  had  hunted.  The  foolish 
hare  had  as  much  wisdom  as  he!  And  what  was 
strength  without  wisdom!  The  arrow  of  the  red 
man  was  more  than  a  match  for  his  strength.  Sev- 
eral times  he  slid  down  the  tree  a  short  way  only 
to  be  sent  back  by  an  arrow.  It  was  useless.  If 
he  had  been  bound  hand  and  foot,  he  could  not 
have  been  more  helpless.  The  hours  dragged  by,  and 
hunger  began  to  grip  him  and  thirst  to  parch  his 
throat.  How  long  would  Ulma,  Ul,  and  Ulu  wait 
at  the  cave  for  the  chief  who  never  would  come 
back?  Who  would  keep  the  wolf  of  hunger  from 
the  mother  and  the  babes?  In  his  bitter  meditation 
he  forgot  to  watch  his  enemy  and  his  ear  was  dull. 

He  was  roused  by  the  angry  hum  of  an  arrow 
which  brushed  his  face.  Another  cut  the  thong  of 
his  quiver,  and  it  fell  to  the  ground.  Om's  heart 
sank  within  him.  He  was  now  a  prisoner  and 
without  weapons.  He  heard  the  red  man  crawling 
about  the  trunk  of  the  tree  and  picking  up  the 
arrows  which  he  had  dropped.  He  was  helpless. 
Why  did  not  the  red  man  make  an  end  of  him  as 
97 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

he  himself  had  made  of  a  wild  boar  caught  in  a 
pitfall?  After  a  time  his  attention  was  drawn  by 
a  sharp  hand-clap  to  an  opening  near  the  tree. 
There  was  the  red  man,  where  for  the  first  time 
he  could  see  him  in  the  full  light  of  day.  He 
crouched  forward  on  his  slab  bed,  his  maimed  legs 
crumpled  beneath  him.  A  great  bow,  lay  beside 
him  and  two  quivers  of  arrows,  one  of  which  had 
been  Om's,  but  his  hands  were  empty.  With  ges- 
tures which  could  not  be  misunderstood  he  beckoned 
to  Om  to  come  down.  When  Om  hesitated,  he 
picked  up  his  bow  and  drew  an  arrow  from  his 
quiver,  so  Om  slowly  climbed  down  the  tree. 

When  Om  reached  the  ground,  he  found  that  the 
red  man  had  covered  every  way  of  escape.  He  had 
proof  enough  of  his  skill  to  know  that  a  dash  for 
liberty  would  mean  sure  death,  so  he  stood  unarmed 
and  humiliated  before  the  red  man,  thankful  only 
that  no  one  of  his  tribe  would  see  him  in  his  shame. 
In  silence  the  two  men  studied  each  other.  The 
white  man  stood  erect,  unbound,  but  he  was  a  slave ; 
his  life  belonged  to  the  red  man  who  crouched  on 
crippled  limbs  before  him.  It  was  brain  against 
brain  and  not  brawn  against  brawn,  and  the  red 
man  had  won.  Death  was  bad,  but  shame  was 
worse.  Why  did  not  the  red  man  end  it  all  and 
shoot  him  to  the  heart? 

But   the    face   of   the   red    man   showed    neither 

triumph  nor  hate,  only  watchful  intelligence.     Its 

expression  was  as  hard  to  read  as  that  of  the  faces 

in  the  fire.     Then  the  red  man  fastened  a  thong 

98 


THE    RED    MAN 

of  rawhide  to  the  front  of  his  sledge  and  signaled 
Om  to  pick  it  up  and  drag  him.  Om  did  so, 
wondering.  Was  he  to  play  horse  for  the  crippled 
giant?  He  wondered  still  more  when  the  red  man 
directed  him,  not  to  the  bank  of  the  river  but  to 
the  trail  which  led  to  the  village  of  Angwang. 
What  did  his  strange  captor  mean  to  do?  Did 
he  mean  to  humble  him  before  the  men  of  the 
tribe  ? 

Just  before  they  came  in  sight  of  the  village,  the 
red  man  signed  to  Om  to  stop.  Then  he  drew 
from  in  front  of  him  the  quiver  which  Om  had  let 
fall  and  tossed  it  to  him.  Om  grasped  it  with 
feverish  haste.  Once  more  he  had  the  weapons 
of  a  man  and  a  chief,  and  he  straightened  him- 
self ;  but  no,  he  had  not  won  them  back,  they 
had  been  given  him  as  a  father  gives  a  plaything 
to  a  child.  The  balance  of  power  was  again  his, 
but  he  could  not  abuse  it.  He  looked  question- 
ingly  at  the  red  man.  What  should  he  do  next? 
The  face  of  the  red  man  seemed  as  inscrutable  as 
ever.  He  simply  pointed  again  to  the  thong  trace 
and  the  village,  and  Om  again  went  on,  drawing  his 
strange  load  behind  him,  his  wonder  increasing  at 
every  step. 

As  the  strange  sledge  drew  near  to  the  village, 
a  great  shout  arose  and  the  villagers  came  trooping 
out  to  meet  them.  When  they  saw  the  red  man, 
some  of  them  grasped  their  weapons  angrily,  but 
drew  back  at  a  command  from  Om.  They  were 
speechless  with  wonder.  What  did  it  mean  ?  Was 
99 


AROUND    THE    FIRE 

he  the  captive  of  Om?  Why  then  did  he  carry  his 
weapons  before  him  like  a  chief?  Straight  through 
the  village  marched  Om  till  he  came  to  his  own 
cave,  and  Ulma  came  out  with  a  glad  cry  to  meet 
him.  When  she  saw  his  strange  load,  she  shrank 
back,  pushing  the  twins  behind  her,  and  then  she 
gave  a  cry  of  surprise  and  went  forward  to  meet 
them  crying,  "  It  is  Rang,  the  Red." 

As  she  stood  above  him,  the  red  man  bowed  so 
low  that  his  face  almost  touched  the  ground  and 
laid  his  weapons  at  her  feet.  The  eyes  of  men  had 
never  looked  on  a  stranger  spectacle.  The  villagers 
stood  about  in  a  wondering  circle.  Om  stood  with 
the  trace  still  over  his  shoulder.  Rang  bowed  his 
great  body  over  his  helpless  limbs.  Ulma  looked 
down  at  the  prostrate  man  and  the  weapons  at  her 
feet  with  the  look  of  a  queen.  Then  she  turned 
to  Om  and  said  in  tones  that  could  be  heard  by 
all :  "  This  is  Rang,  once  follower  of  the  chief  of 
the  red  men;  when  I  was  a  captive,  he  cut  the 
thongs  that  bound  me  and  I  escaped.  His  face  is 
red,  but  his  heart  is  like  that  of  a  white  man. 
The  Great  One  has  spared  his  life."  Then  she 
stooped  down  and  took  his  weapons  and  laid  them 
in  the  hands  of  Om.  Om  hesitated  a  moment  and 
then  gave  them  back  to  Rang,  saying,  "  Take  them, 
they  are  the  gift  of  Ulma." 

That  night  they  built  a  great  fire  upon  the  altar, 

and  the  chiefs  sat  long  in  council  and  listened  to 

the  story  of  Om,   and   at  last  Ang  expressed   the 

will  of  the  tribe:  "  It  is  the  will  of  the  Great  One. 

100 


THE    RED    MAN 

The  skin  of  Rang  is  red  and  his  hair  like  the  shadows 
of  a  night  without  stars,  but  he  has  the  heart  of  a 
man  and  the  courage  of  the  great  bear,  with  the 
cunning  of  the  fox.  He  gave  freedom  to  Ulma, 
wife  of  Om.  He  spared  the  life  of  Om  when  he 
had  snared  him  like  a  bird.  The  Great  One  has 
held  the  mouths  of  the  hungry  ones  of  the  woods 
so  that  they  touched  him  not.  He  is  loved  of  the 
Spirits.  Let  him  be  made  a  brother  of  the  tribe !  " 
And  all  the  men  shouted,  "  Let  him  be  made  a 
brother  of  the  tribe." 

And  Ang  took  the  sacred  knife  from  the  altar 
and  cut  his  arm  till  the  blood  flowed.  Then  he 
lightly  cut  the  arm  of  Rang  and  mingled  the  blood 
on  his  open  palm,  saying,  "  Rang,  thou  art  by  this 
token  a  brother  of  the  tribe." 

And  so  Rang  became  a  brother  of  the  tribe  of 
Angwang  and  sat  with  the  elders  about  the  fire, 
but  he  was  also  the  slave  of  Ul  and  Ulu. 


101 


RANG   OF   THE   THINKING   HAND 


VIII.   RANG  OF  THE  THINKING 
HAND 

THE  coming  of  Rang  made  a  great  change  in 
the  village  of  Angwang.  He  was  one  of  a 
race  which  had  made  many  discoveries  as  yet  un- 
known to  the  white  race.  He  knew  how  to  smelt 
and  shape  the  bronze  used  in  their  weapons.  He 
fashioned  a  loom  on  which  Ulma  and  other  women 
of  the  tribe  wove  cloth  from  the  fibers  of  flax.  He 
taught  the  men  of  the  tribe  to  make  dug-out  canoes. 
But  in  addition  to  the  knowledge  which  he  inherited 
from  his  race  he  had  a  special  inventive  gift  of  his 
own.  He  came  to  be  known  as  "  Rang  of  the  think- 
ing hand."  The  crippling  of  his  legs  seemed  to 
have  diverted  all  the  power  of  his  nature  to  his 
arms  and  hands.  It  seemed  to  the  villagers  as  if 
there  were  nothing  beyond  his  powers. 

From  the  very  beginning  the  twins  Ul  and  Ulu 
claimed  him  as  their  own,  and  he  acknowledged  the 
claim.  At  first  he  made  cunning  toys  for  them,  and 
as  they  grew,  weapons  of  finest  quality  suited  to 
every  stage  of  growth.  He  was  both  their  friend 
and  teacher.  His  big  cave,  with  its  smelting  forge 
and  many  ingenious  contrivances  for  making  needed 
things,  became  a  gathering  place  for  the  boys. 
105 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

Under  the  teaching  of  Rang,  Ul  and  Ulu  became 
more  skillful  than  any  men  of  their  race  had  ever 
been.  Om  and  Ulma  looked  on  with  mingled 
amazement  and  pride  at  the  wonderful  things  which 
the  boys  made.  Whilp  the  boys  were  small,  Rang 
had  shown  no  desire  to  leave  the  village,  but  as 
they  grew  old  enough  to  hunt  and  the  passion  for 
wandering  came  upon  them,  Rang  also  grew  rest- 
less. He  would  drag  himself  out  where  he  could 
watch  for  the  coming  and  going  of  the  boys  and 
turned  a  deaf  ear  to  the  villagers  who  wanted  to 
have  odd  jobs  done  for  them. 

When  the  boys  came  home  from  their  hunting 
and  trapping,  Rang  listened  eagerly  to  it  all,  but 
it  was  plain  he  fretted  at  not  being  able  to  go  with 
them.  And  the  boys,  too,  found  that  things  were 
never  quite  the  same  without  Rang.  It  was  Ul, 
the  bigger  of  the  twins,  who  suggested  a  partial 
solution  of  the  problem:  "  We  are  strong  like  young 
bullocks.  We  will  draw  you  out  as  our  father  Om 
drew  you  to  the  village."  At  first  Rang  shook 
his  head  and  said  that  he  was  too  big  and  they  were 
too  small,  but  at  last  he  yielded  with  ill-concealed 
delight.  The  wander  instinct  was  on  him  as  well 
as  on  the  boys. 

Rang  fashioned  a  new  sledge  with  double  run- 
ners and  a  trace  for  each  boy,  with  a  flat  broad 
shoulder  strap.  His  usually  impassive  face  shone 
like  a  face  in  the  fire  as  the  boys  drew  him  swiftly 
down  the  village  street  and  out  into  the  woods. 
And  Ulma  smiled  contentedly,  for  she  felt  that 
1 06 


THE    THINKING    HAND 

the  boys  would  be  safe  if  Rang  was  with  them  and 
they  could  not  go  far  if  they  dragged  him,  but 
that  was  a  mother's  mistake,  as  we  shall  see  later. 

At  first  the  boys  were  satisfied  to  take  Rang  to 
their  near-by  traps,  but  they  soon  longed  to  go 
farther.  One  day  Rang  told  them  to  take  him 
up  the  banks  of  the  river  to  the  spot  where  his 
old  home  had  been.  Then  he  unfolded  a  plan 
which  had  been  growing  in  his  mind  for  a  long 
time.  They  would  cut  down  a  great  tree  and  make 
a  dug-out  large  enough  to  take  the  three,  and  then 
they  would  go  down  the  river  as  far  as  they  could 
and  see  the  Beyond. 

Rang  chose  a  great  fir  tree  which  he  had  girdled 
long  before  and  which  was  now  dry  as  a  bone. 
First  they  built  a  fire  about  the  trunk,  keeping  the 
fire  from  going  too  high  by  throwing  water  on  it. 
When  the  trunk  was  thoroughly  charred,  they  hacked 
it  away  with  their  bronze  axes  until  the  wood  be- 
came too  hard  for  the  soft  temper  of  the  bronze. 
It  took  two  days  to  fell  the  tree,  another  to  cut  off 
a  twenty-foot  length  suitable  for  their  boat.  The 
next  task  was  the  most  difficult  and  lengthy  of  them 
all,  to  hollow  it  out.  First  the  top  of  the  log  was 
flattened,  except  at  the  ends,  to  where  the  gun- 
wale was  to  be.  Then  red-hot  coals  from  the  fire, 
which  they  kept  constantly  burning,  were  piled  upon 
it  until  enough  of  the  trunk  was  charred  to  be 
dug  out. 

It  was  a  long  and  strenuous  task.  Rang  would 
not  let  the  boys  place  the  coals,  but  he  kept  them 
107 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

busy  bringing  them,  keeping  the  fire,  and  soaking 
the  outside  of  the  log  with  water  to  prevent  the  fire 
burning  too  deeply.  After  the  log  was  hollowed 
out,  Rang  shaped  the  ends  and  gave  a  finishing 
touch  by  carving  on  the  bow  the  head  of  a  wolf. 
When  it  was  at  last  finished  and  equipped  with 
light  ash  paddles,  the  builders  were  very  proud,  and 
they  had  reason  to  be. 

When  the  "  Wolf  "  was  ready  to  launch,  Rang 
said  to  the  boys,  "  I  cannot  help  —  you  will  have  to 
drag  it  to  the  river."  Ul  and  Ulu  looked  a  little 
doubtful,  but  said  nothing  as  Rang  fastened  the 
trace  straps  of  his  sledge  to  the  boat.  "  Now,"  said 
he,  "  pull !  "  and  they  pulled  with  might  and  main, 
together,  singly,  and  by  jerks;  but  the  big  log  only 
stirred  a  little.  The  boys  looked  at  each  other 
and  Rang  with  disappointed  looks.  Would  they 
have  to  get  the  men  of  the  village  to  help  them? 
Half  the  fun  was  doing  it  themselves  and  keeping 
it  a  secret.  Rang's  face  was  a  blank.  He  looked 
as  though  he  had  never  thought  of  the  problem 
of  getting  the  boat  into  the  water.  When  he 
thought  the  boys  had  mastered  the  difficulty  of  the 
task,  he  called  them  to  him.  "  Strength,"  he  said, 
"  is  good,  but  thought,"  pointing  to  his  head,  "  is 
better.  Strength  with  thought  is  best."  Then  he 
cut  a  stout  pole  and  showed  the  boys  how  to  place 
a  stone  so  that  one  could  lift  ten  times  his  own 
weight.  When  it  was  put  in  place,  Ulu,  the  smaller 
of  the  boys,  could  raise  the  bow  of  the  boat  with 
ease.  Next  they  cut  some  rollers,  under  the  direc- 
108 


THE    THINKING    HAND 

tion  of  Rang,  and  placed  them  under  the  log.  When 
that  was  done,  one  could  drag  it  while  the  other 
steadied  it  and  placed  the  rollers. 

The  next  day  the  boys  got  the  permission  of  Om 
and  Ulma  to  go  on  a  long  hunting  trip  with  Rang. 
They  did  not  tell  even  their  parents  that  they  were 
going  by  the  river  and  not  by  land.  For  food  they 
took  cheese  made  from  goats'  milk  and  flour  made 
from  nuts  ground  between  two  stones,  and  dried 
venison.  Rang  spent  most  of  the  day  in  testing  the 
dug-out  and  teaching  the  boys  how  to  paddle  and 
how  to  guide  it  through  the  rapids,  which  were 
numerous,  though  not  very  dangerous.  At  night, 
when  the  villagers  were  sound  asleep,  they  drifted 
quietly  by  and  camped  below  the  village  for  the 
night.  They  slept  in  the  boat  and  early  in  the 
morning  started  for  the  Great  Beyond.  It  was  well 
that  Ulma  could  not  follow  them  with  her  anxious 
eye. 

As  they  paddled  down  the  stream,  Rang  sat  in  the 
stern  and  steered,  while  Ul,  as  the  strongest,  knelt 
in  the  bow  ready  to  push  the  boat  from  any  rock  in 
the  rapids  through  which  they  passed.  Pulled  by 
the  current  and  pushed  by  the  paddles,  the  boat 
went  very  swiftly  down  the  river,  and  perhaps  not 
even  Rang  realized  how  long  it  would  take  to  work 
their  way  back.  Wood  and  marsh  and  rugged  bank 
slipped  by  them  as  in  a  dream.  By  night  they  had 
gone  far.  The  river  grew  wider  and  wider  as 
new  streams  joined  with  it  and  the  country  grew 
more  and  more  flat.  Sometimes  the  marshes 
109 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

stretched  away  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach.  The 
boys  thought  only  of  getting  on,  but  Rang  looked 
anxiously  at  each  stream  as  they  passed.  How 
should  they  know  which  to  take  when  they  came 
back,  and  they  must  come  back,  for  these  were 
Ulma's  boys.  But  still  they  did  not  stop.  A  subtle 
fire  in  the  blood  drove  them  on  from  the  safety 
and  security  of  the  old  settlement  out  into  the 
great  unknown  and  would  not  let  them  stop.  Each 
day's  journey  brought  them  into  a  stranger  country. 
Different  trees  lined  the  banks,  different  birds  flew 
above  them,  strange  animals  peered  at  them  from 
the  banks.  While  the  country  was  low  about  them, 
great  mountains,  with  cloud  tips,  loomed  in  the 
distance.  And  still  the  Great  Beyond  beckoned 
them.  The  faces  of  the  boys  grew  thinner  and  their 
muscles  harder.  They  talked  less  and  looked  more, 
looking  straight  before  them  as  if  they  were  sure 
to  find  what  they  sought  just  beyond  the  next  curve 
in  the  river. 

Each  day  they  paddled  longer  and  spent  less  time 
in  preparing  food  and  in  sleeping.  The  tenth  clay 
they  pressed  on  till  the  dark  shut  them  in.  That 
night  a  distant  roaring  disturbed  their  sleep.  Some- 
times they  thought  it  was  the  noise  of  distant  thun- 
der; at  others  the  noise  of  some  great  beast.  In 
the  morning  they  started  early.  Scarcely  a  word 
was  spoken.  The  eyes  of  Rang  were  like  coals  of 
fire.  Ul  and  Ulu  seemed  like  men  walking  in  their 
sleep.  The  river  grew  wider  ami  separated  into 
many  streams,  so  that  it  was  hard  to  tell  which 
no 


THE    THINKING    HAND 

to  follow.  The  marshes  were  bigger  and  bigger 
and  the  grasses  and  reeds  of  a  different  kind.  When 
they  tasted  of  the  water,  it  was  too  bitter  to  drink. 
And  all  the  time  the  strange  roaring  was  in  their 
ears,  growing  louder  and  louder  as  they  went  on. 
Sweat  streamed  from  the  faces  of  the  feverish 
paddlers,  and  yet  sometimes  they  shivered.  What 
was  the  Great  Unknown  which  they  approached? 
Were  they  approaching  the  caves  of  the  Wind 
Spirits?  Would  the  Spirits  be  angry?  And  still 
they  kept  on. 

At  last  the  canoe  swept  about  a  point  covered 
with  low  brush  and  reeds,  and  their  swinging  pad- 
dles stopped  in  the  middle  of  the  stroke  and  hung 
dripping  in  air.  The  river  suddenly  widened,  and 
its  white  banks  reached  to  right  and  left  as  far 
as  the  eye  could  see.  Before  them  it  melted  into 
the  horizon.  Water,  water  everywhere,  as  big  and 
as  blue  as  the  sky.  The  boat  beneath  them  began 
to  pitch  and  toss  and  to  rush  swiftly  out  into  the 
waste  of  waters  though  their  paddles  were  still. 
As  they  drifted  on,  they  were  met  by  white-capped 
waves  which  tossed  their  small  craft  and  splashed 
their  faces  with  cold  salt  spray.  Rang  was  the  first 
to  awake  from  the  trance  of  wonder  into  which  the 
sea  had  thrown  them.  The  waves  were  growing 
rougher  and  rougher  and  the  shore  was  slipping 
away  from  them.  He  gave  a  sharp  command  to  the 
boys,  and  they  turned  the  boat  with  difficulty  and 
paddled  with  might  and  main  for  the  shore.  At  last 
they  reached  it,  dripping  and  exhausted,  and  dragged 
ii  I 


AROUND   THE   FIRE 

their  unsteady  boat  out  on  the  white  beach,  out  of 
the  way  of  the  hungry  waves. 

All  day  they  wandered  up  and  down  the  beach, 
watching  the  ceaseless  beat  of  the  waves,  wondering 
at  the  many-hued  and  many-shaped  shells  and  sea- 
weeds. The  boys  swam  in  the  salt  water  until  Rang 
saw  the  splash  of  a  great  shark  in  their  wake.  Then 
they  stretched  themselves  on  the  sand  and  studied 
the  far-off  horizon.  "  Some  day,"  said  Ulu,  "  we 
will  make  a  great  boat,  twice  as  big  as  this,  and 
paddle  across  the  Great  Water  and  see  what  is 
beyond."  Rang  shook  his  head.  "  Beyond  is  the 
home  of  the  Spirits  of  the  Wind.  It  is  not  good  for 
men  to  go  there."  Ulu  looked  doubtful  and  said 
nothing. 

As  their  supply  of  food  was  nearly  gone,  they  be- 
gan to  look  for  game.  The  boys  shot  a  few  marsh 
fowl,  but  Rang  made  the  great  discovery  that  the 
clams  and  oysters  which  could  be  gotten  at  low  tide 
were  good  when  roasted  over  a  fire.  For  days 
they  wandered  on  the  shores  of  the  Great  Mystery, 
drinking  in  its  new  delights,  and  yielding  more  and 
more  to  the  charm  which  would  some  day  draw 
them  back  to  it  from  the  ends  of  the  earth.  But 
at  last  the  sense  of  duty  awoke  in  Rang.  What 
would  Ulma  and  Om  think  when  the  days  went 
by  and  the  boys  who  were  dearer  to  them  than 
their  own  eyes  did  not  come  back?  It  was  time  to 
take  the  long  homeward  journey. 

The  first  day's  journey  was  not  so  bad  as  Rang 
had  feared.  For  six  hours  the  current  was  with 
112 


THE    THINKING    HAND 

them,  and  they  began  to  hope  that  Odin  had 
changed  the  flow  of  the  river  to  help  them  on  their 
journey.  But  they  were  sadly  disappointed  when 
the  tide  turned  and  with  painful  effort  they  had 
to  wrest  each  foot  from  the  water  as  it  rushed  to 
the  sea.  The  next  day  the  current  was  against 
them  all  the  time,  and  each  day  the  current  grew 
stronger  and  the  rapids  more  numerous  and  swift. 
By  landmarks  which  they  remembered  they  knew  that 
it  took  three  or  four  days  to  cover  the  same  distance 
that  they  had  covered  in  a  day  coming  down.  It 
was  a  journey  to  tax  the  powers  of  the  strongest. 
The  great  body  of  Rang  lost  every  ounce  of  fat 
and  seemed  nothing  but  muscle  and  sinew  and  bone. 
Though  the  boys  did  not  suspect  it,  he  did  the  work 
of  two  as  he  paddled  grimly  behind  them  with  big 
swinging  strokes  into  which  he  threw  the  whole 
strength  of  his  powerful  body.  And  Ul  and  Ulu 
grew  hard  and  fit.  They  were  stripped  to  the  waist 
as  they  paddled,  and  the  summer  sun  painted  their 
skin  till  it  was  almost  as  red  as  that  of  Rang. 

When    they   had    made   about    half    the   journey 
back,  their  first  real  trouble  overtook  them. 


THE    FIRST   SAILOR 


IX.  THE   FIRST  SAILOR 

EVEN  Rang's  iron  frame  could  not  stand  any 
longer  the  tremendous  strain  which  he  had  put 
upon  it  in  his  anxious  care  to  save  the  boys.  He 
woke  one  morning  with  sharp  pain  in  his  over- 
worked muscles.  No  effort  of  his  will  could  bring 
them  to  their  accustomed  task,  and  he  lay  groaning 
in  the  bottom  of  the  boat,  cursing  the  evil  spirit 
which  had  tempted  him  to  take  the  boys  so  far  from 
their  home.  For  the  first  time  the  boys  were  thrown 
on  their  own  resources.  Rang  tried  to  persuade 
them  to  leave  him  on  the  shore  and  press  on  alone, 
but  the  boys  would  not  hear  of  that.  So  they  laid 
Rang  on  a  bed  of  leaves  in  the  middle  of  the  dug- 
out, and  Ul  took  the  stern  paddle  and  Ulu  the 
bow. 

After  a  few  hours'  fighting  against  the  current, 
sometimes  losing  more  than  they  gained,  they  began 
to  realize  what  the  crippled  Rang  had  done  for 
them.  It  would  take  them  weeks  to  make  the  rest 
of  the  journey,  and  it  might  be  that  they  could  not 
get  up  some  of  the  rapids  with  his  weight,  without 
his  skill  and  strength.  As  their  food  supply  was 
nearly  exhausted,  they  had  to  spend  more  and  more 
time  each  day  in  hunting  and  they  made  but  little 
117 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

progress.     The   boys   became   men   as   they   fought 
the  stream. 

Ulu  was  not  so  strong  as  Ul,  and  it  fretted  him 
that  he  could  not  pull  his  full  share.  One  night, 
after  a  hard  day's  pull  with  little  gain,  they  lay 
exhausted  on  the  bank,  and  Ulu  pondered.  Rang 
had  told  them  once  that  "  Strength  was  good,  but 
thought  better,  and  thought  with  strength  best."  If 
he  was  not  so  strong  as  Ul,  he  must  think  more. 
As  he  thought,  his  eye  happened  to  fall  upon  a  tuft 
of  floating  grass  which  slowly  drifted  up  stream. 
He  sat  up  and  watched  more  intently.  Nothing 
was  pulling  it;  it  had  no  paddles,  and  yet  it  went 
against  the  current.  The  breath  of  the  night  wind 
was  strong  on  his  face  as  it  blew  up  the  stream. 
He  leaped  to  his  feet  in  excitement.  It  was  the 
push  of  the  wind  that  did  it.  Why  should  not  the 
wind  push  their  boat  as  well  as  the  tuft  of  grass? 
He  looked  at  Ul  and  Rang.  They  lay  fast  asleep. 
With  light  footsteps  he  crept  down  to  the  boat  tied 
to  the  bank.  Then  he  tore  up  a  thick  young  cedar 
from  its  loose  hold  on  the  bank  and  propped  it  in 
the  bow  of  the  boat.  Then  he  pushed  out  into  the 
stream,  taking  Ul's  place  at  the  stern.  When  he 
got  out  into  the  sweep  of  the  wind,  he  stopped 
paddling  and  waited.  At  first  the  boat  almost 
stopped,  and  it  seemed  as  if  the  drag  of  the  current 
was  pulling  it  back.  Then  the  wind  strengthened, 
and  the  cedar  in  the  bow  bent  before  it,  and  the 
boat  began  to  go  slowly  forward.  Ulu's  heart 
throbbed  with  the  joy  of  a  greaf  discovery.  The 
118 


THE    FIRST    SAILOR 

Revealer  had  showed  the  secret  of  the  fire  to  Ang, 
of  the  clay  to  Oma,  of  the  smoke  way  to  Om,  and 
now  the  secret  of  the  wind  to  him.  Again  and 
again  he  drifted  down  the  stream  and  was  pushed 
up  by  the  hand  of  the  wind  upon  the  cedar  sail. 

Ulu  slept  but  little  that  night.  As  he  heard 
the  rush  of  the  wind  in  the  tree  tops,  he  said  to 
himself,  "  With  the  wind  at  his  back  the  paddle  of 
Ulu  shall  be  stronger  than  that  of  Ul  or  even  of 
Rang."  In  the  morning  he  told  his  discovery  to 
Ul  and  Rang.  Ul  shook  his  head  and  unconsciously 
stroked  the  swelling  muscles  of  his  arm.  It  was 
because  Ulu  was  not  so  strong  that  he  dreamed 
such  things.  Rang  said  nothing,  but  was  soon  lost 
in  thought.  He  lifted  his  hand  so  that  it  caught 
the  full  force  of  the  wind  which  had  risen  during 
the  night.  There  might  be  something  in  it.  If  so, 
why  had  he  not  thought  of  it  —  he,  Rang  the  cunning 
one,  maker  of  many  inventions?  He  looked  at  Ulu 
and  shook  his  head.  He  was  a  mere  boy ;  it  could 
not  be. 

But  as  they  were  both  fond  of  Ulu  they  let  him 
put  his  cedar  bough  in  front  when  they  started. 
At  first  all  went  well,  and  both  Rang  and  Ul  be- 
gan to  think  that  the  boat  did  go  faster,  but  then 
a  gust  of  wind  swept  down  from  a  gully  in  the 
river  bank  and  struck  the  rude  sail  on  the  side.  In 
a  moment  the  boat  was  capsized  and  the  three  were 
struggling  in  the  water.  Rang  clung  to  the  boat, 
and  the  boys  towed  it  to  the  shore.  Ul  and  Rang 
said  nothing,  but  they  looked  much.  When  they 
119 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

started  again,  Ul  threw  out  the  soaked  cedar  bough 
with  a  gesture  more  telling  than  words. 

For  a  time  Ulu  was  very  downcast  and  Ul  had 
to  tell  *him  rather  sharply  to  stop  dreaming  and 
paddle.  But  as  time  went  on  Ulu's  spirits  rose. 
After  all,  the  wind  would  push ;  only  you  must  take 
care  that  he  pushed  in  the  right  place.  That  day 
the  current  was  so  strong  and  they  made  so  little 
progress  that  even  Ul  gave  up  and  said  that  they 
must  go  ashore  and  rest.  After  they  had  eaten,  Ul 
and  Rang  sat  with  their  heads  bowed  in  their  hands. 
The  water  was  too  strong  for  them.  They  must 
try  to  make  their  way  overland  through  the  trackless 
forest.  How  could  it  be  done,  with  the  crippled 
Rang?  They  could  not  drag  a  sledge  through  such 
thickets  as  surrounded  them. 

While  the  others  brooded  moodily,  Ulu  slipped 
down  to  the  shore,  put  another  and  bigger  cedar 
in  the  front  of  the  boat,  and  pushed  out  into  the 
stream.  This  time  the  wind  blew  strong  and 
steadily  up  the  stream.  When  the  boat  felt  its 
full  force,  it  began  to  go  against  the  current  with 
a  ripple  of  water  at  the  bow.  Ul  sat  up  and 
rubbed  his  eyes.  Rang  slapped  his  hand  upon  his 
withered  leg.  '  Thought  is  better  than  strength. 
It  would  have  been  better  if  we  had  thought  more 
and  worked  less."  • 

When  Ulu  returned  from  his  short  voyage,  the 

attitude  of  the  others  was  entirely  changed.     Their 

affection    was    now    mingled    with    respect.      Rang 

abused   himself   loudly.     Why   had   he   lain   like  a 

1 20 


THE    FIRST    SAILOR 

log  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat?  Why  had  he  not 
used  his  head  the  more  when  he  could  not  use  his 
arms?  He  would  begin  now.  If  the  Wind  Spirit 
could  push  a  dug-out  against  the  current  with  such 
a  small  cedar,  he  would  push  it  faster  if  there  was 
something  larger.  He  unrolled  the  woven  blanket 
upon  which  he  lay  and  which  was  the  one  luxury 
he  allowed  himself.  Under  his  direction  the  boys 
fastened  it  with  two  sticks,  one  acting  as  a  mast 
and  the  other  as  a  sprit. 

Their  next  start  was  more  fortunate.  The  wind 
was  strong  and  steady.  The  sail  bellied  out  and 
pulled  like  a  live  thing,  and  they  traveled  farther 
that  day  than  they  had  done  in  any  three  days  be- 
fore. After  two  months'  absence  they  sailed  into 
the  little  cove  in  front  of  the  village  of  Angwang, 
and  there  was  great  shouting  and  rejoicing.  Om 
and  Ulma  hovered  about  the  boys  as  if  they  had 
been  brought  back  from  the  land  of  dreams  where 
live  the  men  of  old,  and  they  forgot  to  punish  Rang 
for  taking  the  boys  away. 

And  so  Ulu  became  the  first  sailor  and  always 
heard  the  voices  of  the  Great  Water  calling  him. 
One  day  he  answered. 


121 


THE    GARDEN    OF  ULMA 


X.  THE  GARDEN  OF  ULMA 

AND  Om  and  Ulma  had  a  daughter  Saxa,  who 
grew  to  be  more  and  more  a  comfort  to  her 
mother  as  the  boys  spent  more  and  more  of  their 
time  out  in  the  forest.  Rang,  too,  who  did  not 
wholly  recover  from  his  rheumatism  and  had  to 
stay  at  Angwang  after  his  one  voyage  of  discovery, 
was  her  devoted  slave.  It  was  beautiful  to  watch 
the  tender  deftness  with  which  the  crippled  giant 
tended  her  while  she  was  a  baby  and  played  with 
her  and  made  toys  for  her  as  she  grew  older.  Rang 
again  became  teacher  and  devoted  himself  to  it  with 
the  singleness  of  purpose  characteristic  of  the  man 
and  perhaps  of  his  race.  And  Saxa  was  an  apt 
pupil.  She  had  not  the  strength  of  the  boys,  but 
she  had  a  deftness  and  skill  which  they  lacked. 
And  she  heeded  the  words  of  her  old  teacher,  re- 
peated again  and  again,  when  she  faced  some  prob- 
lem a  little  too  much  for  her  powers :  "  Think, 
think,  think." 

While  Om  and  the  boys  were  away  on  long 
hunting  trips,  Ulma  and  Saxa  and  Rang  were  often 
left  alone  for  weeks  at  a  time.  There  were  the 
goats  to  tend  and  a  few  simple  domestic  duties  to 
perform,  but  time  sometimes  hung  heavy  on  their 
125 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

hands,  and  Ulma,  now  that  her  children  were  no 
longer  babies  requiring  her  constant  care,  would 
sometirqes  grow  restive.  She  would  say  to  Saxa, 
"  I  wish  I  were  a  man  and  could  hunt  and  trap 
and  rove  where  I  wished."  But  Saxa  was  so  young 
and  had  so  much  serious  play  on  her  mind  that  she 
did  not  understand. 

And  still  Ulma  fretted.  She  felt  as  strong  as 
when  she  had  escaped  from  the  red  men.  She  tired 
of  weaving  cloth  on  the  loom  which  Rang  had  made 
for  her.  She  did  not  like  to  crouch  on  the  ground 
molding  pottery,  as  many  of  the  women  did.  When 
her  men  were  away,  she  began  to  wander  farther 
and  farther  from  the  village.  She  replied  to  the 
anxious  protests  of  Om  that  she  wanted  to  find 
herbs  which  were  so  bitter  to  the  fever  demon  that 
he  would  fly  away.  In  reality,  though  she  scarcely 
knew  it  herself,  she  was  searching  for  something 
which  seemed  worth  doing.  As  she  wandered,  she 
collected  nuts  and  fruits  and  wild  grain,  for  no  one 
in  the  village  knew  so  well  where  things  good  to 
eat  grew. 

One  day  she  found  in  a  meadow  some  distance 
from  the  village  a  new  grass  with  seeds  larger  and 
sweeter  to  the  taste  than  any  she  had  seen  before. 
She  selected  some  and  took  them  home  and  grinding 
them  into  a  coarse  flour  made  cakes  for  Om  and  the 
boys  when  they  came  home.  They  ate  all  of  them 
and  wanted  more.  They  had  never  tasted  any- 
thing as  good,  and  Ulma  with  true  housewife  in- 
stinct longed  to  give  them  more.  On  the  next  day 
126 


THE    GARDEN    OF  ULMA 

she  went  and  gathered  all  that  she  could  find  and 
was  preparing  to  grind  it  when  a  thought  came 
to  her,  perhaps  from  the  mind  of  the  Great  Re- 
vealer.  If  she  ground  all  the  grain,  there  would 
be  one  meal  and  that  would  be  the  end  of  it.  Why 
not  save  the  seed  and  plant  it  near  the  village? 
There  would  be  more  and  she  would  not  have  to 
go  so  far  for  it. 

So,  instead  of  making  flour  from  the  wheat  seed 
—  for  the  new  grain  was  wild  wheat  —  she  put  it 
in  a  dry  place,  intending  to  put  it  in  the  ground  in 
the  spring;  but  then  she  remembered  that  the  seed 
sowed  itself  in  the  fall.  So  she  chose  a  level  spot 
not  far  from  her  cave,  and  after  burning  the  tall 
grass  upon  it,  she  scratched  the  surface  with  sharp 
sticks  and  sowed  her  seed. 

Now  there  was  no  need  to  tell  Ulma  not  to 
wander  too  far  from  the  village.  The  birds  were 
as  fond  of  the  wheat  as  her  men,  and  she  had  to 
watch  her  field  with  unremitting  care.  Late  in 
the  fall  the  ground  became  green  with  the  new 
wheat,  and  the  face  of  Ulma  shone.  Her  mother 
instinct  had  a  new  outlet  in  the  soil. 

But  as  soon  as  the  wheat  was  up  a  new  enemy 
appeared.  Goats  are  not  apt  to  pass  by  anything 
good  to  eat  at  any  time  of  year,  and  new  wheat 
seemed  especially  good  at  this  time  of  year.  Day  and 
night  Ulma  had  to  watch  her  tiny  wheat  field  with 
such  help  as  Rang  and  Saxa  could  give.  It  was 
engrossing  business,  and  Om  sometimes  grumbled 
a  little  if  Ulma  was  chasing  the  goats  when  he 
127 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

wanted  something  to  eat.  The  villagers  too  were 
inclined  to  resent  it  when  Ulma  stoned  their  goats. 
All  in  all,,  she  had  rather  a  hard  time,  but  she  did 
not  lack  for  occupation. 

During  the  winter  she  had  a  rest,  but  in  the 
spring  her  troubles  began  afresh.  She  grew  thin 
and  anxious  trying  to  defend  her  precious  wheat 
field  from  its  numerous  enemies,  but  her  zeal  never 
flagged.  Saxa,  however,  often  grew  tired  of  watch- 
ing the  wheat  field.  Her  mind  was  full  of  fancies, 
and  she  loved  to  sit  by  herself  and  let  them  lead 
her  where  they  would.  Often  while  she  dreamed 
the  goats  got  into  the  wheat,  and  Ulma  would  come 
flying  out  to  drive  them  away  and  reproach  her  for 
her  neglect. 

After  one  of  these  excursions  from  the  post  of 
duty  to  the  land  of  fancy,  when  the  goats  had  been 
especially  hungry  and  she  very  far  away,  Ulma  was 
so  angry  that  Saxa  was  frightened.  She  remem- 
bered the  oft-repeated  words  of  Rang:  "When  the 
thing  is  too  big  for  you,  think."  And  she  thought. 
The  goats  loved  wheat  and  they  did  not  very  much 
mind  the  few  stones  and  sticks  that  were  aimed  well 
enough  to  hit  them.  But  she  remembered  some 
thorn  bushes  that  grew  on  the  hill  above  the  village, 
which  were  the  only  things  the  goat  would  not  eat. 
The  leaves  were  bitter  as  wormwood,  and  the 
crooked  spines  were  too  much  even  for  the  tough 
hide  of  a  goat.  If  the  thorns  would  only  grow 
about  the  wheat  field,  she  would  not  need  to  sit 
by  the  stupid  grass  and  watch.  But  she  could  not 
128 


THE    GARDEN    OF  ULMA 

do  it  herself;  the  thorns  were  too  sharp  and  it  was 
too  hard  work.  It  was  time  for  cunning  thought, 
a  kind  of  thought  as  old  as  Eve. 

Now  Saxa  was  almost  a  woman,  and  the  young 
men  of  the  village  thought  there  was  none  like  her. 
They  looked  at  her  out  of  the  corners  of  their  eyes 
as  she  passed.  They  brought  the  finest  nuts  and  left 
them  at  the  door  of  the  cave  of  Om,  and  Ul  and 
Ulu,  who  rose  early  in  nut  time,  were  full  fed. 
Saxa  seemed  to  see  none  of  them  and  care  for 
none,  but  old  Suta,  who  saw  other  things  besides 
the  pots  she  fashioned,  would  nod  her  head  and 
mutter:  "  Ah,  these  girls!  They  see  most  when  they 
seem  blind."  At  any  rate,  there  were  a  dozen  young 
hunters  in  the  village  who,  as  Saxa  well  knew, 
would  do  anything  they  thought  she  wanted.  But 
there  were  things  to  be  considered,  and  the  next 
night  Saxa  was  wide  awake  while  the  others  slept. 

Now  there  was  a  certain  young  man,  not  be- 
longing to  the  village,  whom  she  had  seen  some- 
times, who  seemed  to  her  more  like  a  real  chief  than 
any  of  the  others.  He  was  Let,  the  son  of  Sut, 
chief  of  the  plainsmen,  and  he  came  sometimes  to 
see  his  grandfather  Wang  and  his  grandmother 
Suta.  As  time  went  on,  he  came  more  and  more 
often,  and  Suta  —  and  it  may  be  Saxa  —  noticed 
that  he  always  came  by  the  cave  of  Wang.  As 
she  lay  awake  and  thought,  an  inspiration  came  to 
her.  Those  who  cared  most  for  Saxa  would  build 
the  longest  piece  of  thorn  hedge  for  her  mother's 
field,  and  Let  was  coming  to  the  village  to-morrow. 
129 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

Early  the  next  morning  Saxa  went  to  the  house 
of  Wang  and  watched  Suta  as  she  fashioned  a  new 
and  wonderful  bowl  with  the  figures  of  a  flock 
of  goats  molded  about  its  edge.  "  Suta,"  said  she 
at  last,  "  I  am  tired  of  watching  the  field  of  Ulma 
and  sometimes  I  forget.  If  I  could  put  a  hedge 
of  thorn  about  it,  the  thorn  would  not  forget. 
If  Ul  and  Ulu  were  not  away  so  much,  I  would 
ask  them  to  do  it."  Suta  said  nothing,  but  Saxa 
saw  her  shoulders  shake  as  if  something  pricked 
them,  and  she  went  away  knowing  that  the  young 
men  of  the  village  would  know  soon  enough  what 
the  daughter  of  Om  wanted. 

It  was  a  busy  day  at  the  village.  One  by  one 
the  young  men  slipped  off  to  the  hill  with  their 
sharpest  knives  and  their  oldest  and  toughest  coats. 
That  day  the  goats  did  not  have  even  a  chance. 
There  was  a  procession  of  torn  and  tattered  heroes 
bearing  thorn  bushes.  The  villagers  came  out  and 
jeered  or  cheered  as  the  mood  was,  and  Rang  super- 
intended the  work  of  placing  the  bushes.  Saxa  did 
not  come  out,  but  watched  from  the  door  of  the 
cave,  and  Ulma  saw  that  she  looked  more  often  at 
the  road  which  led  into  the  village  than  at  the 
scratched  and  weary  workers.  At  last  Let  came 
and  stared  with  astonishment  at  the  strange  sight. 
Without  stopping,  however,  he  went  off  to  the 
house  of  Wang,  and  Saxa  watched  to  see  him  come 
and  work  on  the  thorn  fence.  But  the  hours  went 
by  and  no  Let  appeared.  One  by  one  the  others 
gave  it  up  and  slipped  away  scratched  and  weary 
130 


THE    GARDEN    OF  ULMA 

and  feeling  rather  foolish.  By  nightfall  only  a  little 
more  than  half  of  the  field  was  inclosed,  and  both 
Saxa  and  Rang  were  disappointed. 

The  villagers  slept  soundly  that  night,  and  no 
one  was  watching  when  the  full  moon  rose  and 
Let  slipped  out  of  the  cave  of  Wang  and  made 
his  way  to  the  hill-side.  He  carried  something 
that  looked  like  a  heavy  sickle,  made  of  bronze. 
He  was  dressed  in  the  toughest  kind  of  skins,  skins 
prepared  to  act  as  a  kind  of  armor  in  attacking 
savage  beasts.  Even  his  hands  and  feet  were  cov- 
ered. Silently  but  swiftly  he  cut  great  piles  of 
thorn  bush.  The^n  he  took  a  rope  of  rawhide  and 
bound  them  together  and  dragged  them  to  the  field. 
By  morning  the  field  was  all  inclosed  with  a  hedge 
of  thorns,  and  Let  was  back  in  the  house  of  Wang, 
but  not  before  he  had  left  at  the  hut  of  Om  a  wild 
rose  tied  to  a  thorn  bush  with  a  slender  piece  of 
rawhide. 

When  Saxa  looked  out,  she  rubbed  her  eyes  and 
looked  again.  The  field  was  hedged  on  all  sides 
with  prickly  thorns.  Some  goats  were  already 
sniffing  disgustedly  at  the  bristling  fence.  She 
looked  at  her  feet  and  saw  the  rose  and  the  thorn 
bush  tied  together.  No  one  would  do  that  but  Let, 
and  he  had  not  come  out  yesterday.  While  she  was 
puzzling  over  it,  Let  himself  came  by  and  waved 
his  hand  to  her.  To  have  done  more  would  have 
been  contrary  to  the  custom  of  the  tribe.  She  saw 
no  sign  of  thorn  scratches  on  his  hands  or  limbs. 
It  could  not  be  he  that  had  built  the  hedge  during 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

the  night,  but  some  one  had.  Who  was  it?  She 
went  out  to  the  field  and  walked  about  the  hedge. 
At  last  she  found  the  clue  which  she  had  been  look- 
ing for.  Let  had  forgotten  his  big  bronze  hook, 
and  it  lay  just  as  he  had  dropped  it  after  his  last 
load.  With  a  flush  like  the  dawn  she  picked  it  up 
and  put  it  under  her  loose  tunic  so  that  no  one 
should  see  it,  and  carried  it  to  the  hut.  She  hid 
it  behind  her  bed  of  boughs  and  moss,  but  the  sharp 
eyes  of  Ulma  soon  discovered  it,  and  said  to  Om, 
"  Saxa  shall  be  wife  to  Let,  the  son  of  Sut." 
"  Why,"  answered  Om,  "  she  is  but  a  child,  and 
besides  —  But  Ulma  turned  away  with  a  look 
of  superior  wisdom  which  made  him  feel  much  as 
he  had  done  when  Rang  had  treed  him,  and  he  said 
nothing. 

So  Ulma's  wheat  field  grew,  and  many  kinds  of 
growing  things  were  added  to  it.  Others  did  likewise 
and  food  became  more  plentiful.  In  this  manner 
Ulma  became  the  first  farmer  and  Saxa  the  first 
diplomatist  —  But  no,  diplomacy  began  with  Eve. 


132 


LET,   THE    FIRST   ARTIST 


XL   LET,  THE  FIRST  ARTIST 

IN  the  good  old  days  —  which  were  not  so  good, 
after  all,  though  they  had  their  good  points  — 
young  people  were  not  allowed  to  see  much  of  each 
other./At  first  the  young  men  carried  off  the  young 
women,  if  they  were  strong  enough  and  the  young 
women  not  too  unwilling. j  But  as  time  went  on  it 
became  the  custom  for  the  mothers,  and  perhaps  a 
little  later  for  the  fathers,  to  arrange  such  matters, 
There  would  be  plenty  of  time,  they  said,  for  the 
boy  and  girl  to  get  acquainted  when  they  lived  to- 
gether every  clay.  So  Let  could  look  upon  Saxa 
only  as  he  passed  her  home,  and  sometimes  it  seemed 
to  him  as  if  she  did  not  see  him  at  all.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  Let  never  put  foot  in  the  village  of  Angwang 
without  Saxa's  knowing  it,  though  no  one  suspected 
it  but  Ulma. 

Now  Let  was  young  and  had  not  yet  showed 
skill  as  a  hunter.  Om  shook  his  head  when  the 
young  man  passed,  and  said,  "  Let  him  prove  him- 
self." And  yet  his  heart  was  warm  to  the  young 
man  because  he  was  the  son  of  Sut.  Ulma,  too,  was 
anxious.  Let's  face  was  always  like  the  morning, 
and  as  he  went  through  the  woods  he  often  sang 
to  himself,  and  his  voice  made  those  who  heard 
135 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

turn  to  listen.  It  made  Saxa's  heart  burn;  but 
the  song^  scared  away  the  game. 

And  Let  was  interested  in  so  many  things  be- 
sides the  getting  of  food.  One  day  a  hunter  found 
him  seated  within  easy  shot  of  a  deer.  His  bow 
lay  on  the  ground  beside  him.  On  his  lap  was 
a  flat  white  stone,  and  he  was  marking  on  it  with 
a  piece  of  charcoal.  As  the  deer  fled  at  the  approach 
of  the  hunter,  Let  looked  up  and  shouted,  "  I  have 
him."  "  You  mean  you  have  lost  him,"  grumbled 
the  hunter.  But  Let  cared  not.  He  had  drawn 
the  shape  of  the  deer  on  the  stone  with  his  charcoal. 
Later,  he  would  follow  the  tracing  with  a  flint  pick. 
So  Let  went  home  with  an  empty  stomach  but  joy 
in  his  heart.  Both  the  people  of  his  own  village  and 
those  of  Angwang  shook  their  heads,  and  when  the 
men  went  to  hunt  they  left  Let  behind.  No  one 
understood  him  but  Suta,  and  so  it  came  about 
that  he  spent  most  of  his  time  at  the  hut  of  Wang. 
And  sometimes  Wang  grumbled  and  said  that  the 
young  man  ate  much  and  brought  little.  Then  Suta 
turned  on  him  as  she  rarely  did  and  said,  "  Whose 
work  brings  food  to  the  home  of  Wang?"  And 
Wang  could  think  of  nothing  to  say  at  the  time, 
though  he  thought  of  many  things  afterwards. 

Suta  taught  Let  all  that  she  knew  of  the  art  of 
molding  clay  into  wonderful  shapes.  But  Let  was 
not  satisfied.  With  his  charcoal  crayons  he  made 
pictures  on  stones,  clay,  and  skins,  and  Suta  looked 
on  with  shining  eyes.  The  Great  Seer  had  given 
the  boy  the  seeing  eye  and  a  hand  that  could  speak 
136 


THE    FIRST   ARTIST 

a  new  language.  But  Let  longed  to  have  some  one 
else  see  and  like  the  things  which  he  made. 

One  day  he  discovered  a  beautiful  spot  in  the 
woods  where  Saxa  went  to  dream,  for  girls  have 
always  had  their  dreams  from  the  beginning.  And 
he  took  a  wonderful  picture  of  a  deer  which  he  had 
scratched  upon  a  piece  of  slate  and  left  it  where 
Saxa's  eye  would  be  sure  to  fall  upon  it.  The  next 
day  when  he  looked  for  it,  it  was  gone,  and  he  put 
still  another  picture  in  its  place.  This  time  it  was 
done  in  soft  clay  with  a  sharp  stick  and  then  baked. 
It  was  the  picture  of  a  girl.  Saxa  wondered  if  she 
really  looked  like  the  picture,  and  studied  her  face, 
mirrored  in  a  still  pool,  to  make  sure. 

At  last  Saxa  grew  tired  of  having  Let  do  all 
the  picture  talking,  and  Let  found  one  day  a  piece 
of  the  bark  of  the  white  birch,  and  on  it  was  the 
picture  of  a  young  man  holding  in  his  hand  not 
a  spear  but  a  piece  of  charcoal,  and  he  was  drawing 
a  deer,  not  killing  it.  So  day  by  day  they  learned 
to  talk  the  picture  language  and  share  each  other's 
dreams  and  became  very  dear  to  each  other.  But, 
alas,  the  hut  of  Let  was  still  unbuilt,  and  the  men 
of  the  tribe  turned  their  back  on  him  at  the  council. 
If  it  had  not  been  for  Suta,  he  would  often  have 
gone  hungry. 

Sometimes  Saxa  herself  grew  impatient  and 
wished  he  was  more  like  other  men  —  like  her 
father  Om,  or  even  her  brothers  —  but  when  she 
went  to  the  little  cave  on  the  hill-side,  which  no 
one  knew  of,  and  looked  at  the  wonderful  things 
137 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

which  Let  had  pictured,  she  was  glad  that  he  was 
different.*  Suta  was  right.  There  were  other  things 
besides  food  and  huts  and  clothes,  and  she  waited 
patiently. 

But  Let  was  soon  to  enter  into  his  man-right  and 
take  his  place  in  the  circle  about  the  fire,  and  this 
is  the  story. 

For  many  years  the  village  of  Angwang  had 
grown  and  prospered.  There  was  food  for  all,  and 
warmth  and  shelter,  and  no  enemies  had  attacked 
them.  To  many  of  the  young  people  the  slaughter 
of  the  red  men  was  simply  an  old  man's  tale.  But 
at  last  the  peace  of  the  village  was  rudely  broken. 
A  small  band  of  hunters,  of  whom  Let  happened 
to  be  one,  went  up  the  river  a  little  farther  than 
usual.  They  expected  to  be  back  in  two  days  at  the 
outside.  Three  days  went  by,  and  nothing  was 
heard  from  them.  But  since  the  men  often  remained 
away  longer  than  they  expected,  little  anxiety  was 
felt  for  them,  save  in  one  heart  —  Saxa  was  anxious. 
She  was  sure  Let  would  not  have  stayed  away  if 
something  had  not  happened.  She  went  many  times 
during  the  third  day  to  the  spot  where  he  left  his 
picture  messages,  but  found  nothing.  As  the  day 
went  on,  the  grip  of  fear  was  stronger  upon  her,  and 
her  mother  could  not  keep  her  at  home.  She  wan- 
dered up  and  down  the  approaches  of  the  village, 
trying  at  first  to  conceal  her  anxiety,  but  growing 
less  and  less  careful  as  night  approached. 

Just  as  the  night  was  shutting  in,  she  stood  on 
the  bank  of  the  river  watching  the  path  that  fol- 
138 


THE    FIRST   ARTIST 

lowed  it  for  a  considerable  distance.  Suddenly  her 
attention  was  attracted  to  a  piece  of  the  bark  of 
the  silver  birch  drifting  down  the  stream.  Her 
heart  leaped  as  she  saw  it.  Sometimes  Let  had 
playfully  sent  picture  messages  in  little  boats  fash- 
ioned from  bark.  She  waded  out  into  the  stream, 
caught  the  bark  as  it  drifted  by,  and  hurried  to  the 
shore.  Even  in  the  dim  light  she  could  see  that 
there  were  rough  pictures  upon  it,  so  much  rougher 
than  any  Let  had  ever  sent  before  that  she  realized 
that  this  was  something  more  than  a  love  letter 
drawn  at  leisure. 

With  quick  footsteps  she  hurried  to  the  fire 
where  her  mother  was  cooking  and  studied  the  pic- 
tures on  the  bark.  It  needed  the  intuition  of 
woman's  love  to  interpret  them.  They  had  been 
scratched  with  something  sharp,  perhaps  an  arrow 
point,  and  not  drawn  with  charcoal  as  usual.  That 
showed  that  the  one  who  had  made  them  had 
expected  to  send  it  by  water.  The  rough  work 
showed  that  it  had  been  done  in  haste  and  perhaps 
in  danger. 

As  Saxa  sat  crouching  before  the  fire  trying  to 
interpret  the  pictures,  both  Om  and  Ulma  came 
and  looked  over  her  shoulder,  but  she  was  so  intent 
that  she  did  not  notice  them.  Ulma  was  quite  sure 
that  the  scratches  meant  nothing,  but  Om's  eye  was 
attracted  by  something  familiar.  He  leaned  over 
Saxa's  shoulder  and  studied  the  bark  drawing  more 
carefully.  There  was  the  outline  of  a  ragged  hill 
which  he  had  often  seen  in  his  hunting  trips,  and 
139 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

he  pointed  his  finger  to  it,  saying,  "  Hill  of  the 
Goats!  'l  It  gave  to  Saxa  the  key  she  needed.  She 
sprang  to  her  feet  and  drew  her  father's  head  down 
so  that  he  could  see  more  plainly.  Then  she  pointed 
with  eager  fingers.  Here  were  six  small  figures  like 
men,  huddled  together  in  a  hollow  between  two 
cliffs.  On  the  cliffs  were  as  many  figures  as  the 
artist  could  find  room  for,  but  evidently  drawn  with 
greatest  haste  and  under  great  difficulties.  In  a 
corner,  beneath  the  larger  picture,  was  a  sketch  of 
a  man  creeping  on  all  fours  carrying  something, 
it  might  be  a  piece  of  bark,  in  his  teeth.  In  the 
opposite  corner  was  Let's  sign,  a  hand  posed  to 
draw. 

The  meaning  was  clear.  The  hunters  had  been 
trapped  in  a  pass  near  the  Hill  of  the  Goats  by 
a  numerous  enemy.  Let  had  crept  to  the  river  to 
carry  his  bark  message  for  help.  Neither  the  river 
nor  his  sweetheart  had  failed  him.  Almost  before 
Saxa  had  finished  interpreting  it  Om  had  seized  his 
weapons  and  rushed  into  the  street  of  the  village, 
giving  the  weird  war-cry  of  the  Angwangs  which 
had  not  been  heard  for  many  years.  In  less  time 
than  it  takes  to  tell,  the  fighting  men  of  the  tribe 
gathered  and  started  to  the  rescue  of  the  besieged 
hunters.  Saxa,  with  throbbing  heart  and  eyes  that 
burned  like  fire,  sat  through  the  long  sleepless  night, 
watching  as  if  her  eyes  could  pierce  the  dark  dis- 
tance which  separated  her  from  her  lover.  And  that 
night  Saxa  floated  out  of  the  brook  of  girlhood, 
far  out  into  the  stream  of  womanhood. 
140 


THE    FIRST   ARTIST 

In  the  quiet  life  of  the  village  Om  had  some- 
times grown  weary  of  inaction.  He  had  no  fond- 
ness for  herding  goats  or  digging  in  the  soil.  That 
was  woman's  work,  and  the  hunting  was  not  what 
it  had  been  when  he  was  young.  The  bullocks  had 
gone  to  safer  pastures.  Ever  the  great  cave  bear 
found  it  safer  to  find  a  den  farther  and  farther  from 
the  village.  There  had  been  less  and  less  to  show 
the  real  power  of  Om,  and  some  of  the  younger  men 
had  begun  to  wonder  if  he  really  was  so  great  a 
war-chief  as  the  old  men  believed.  But  that  night 
they  felt  the  power  of  a  born  leader  of  men. 
Though  his  eyes  burned  with  the  light  of  battle 
and  his  great  body  seemed  tense  like  that  of  a 
lion  about  to  spring  upon  its  prey,  he  was  still 
so  clearly  ruler  of  himself  that  they  all  knew  in 
him  their  master.  He  was  the  head;  they  the 
hands  and  feet. 

All  night  they  trailed  in  single  file,  as  swiftly  as 
wolves  and  as  noiselessly  as  foxes.  Before  the  gray 
of  morning  they  were  near  the  pass.  Om  halted  his 
men  long  enough  for  them  to  rest  and  eat,  for  he 
knew  that  hungry  men  are  always  less  courageous 
than  those  well  fed,  and  he  knew  also  that  it  is 
in  the  chill  of  morning  that  man's  strength  is 
at  the  ebb.  So  he  gave  his  commands.  The  men 
were  to  form  a  great  circle  about  the  besiegers 
and  at  a  signal,  the  weird  hoot  of  the  great  white 
owl,  rush  in  on  the  enemy,  who  would  be  too  dazed 
to  know  whether  a  hundred  men  or  a  thousand  were 
attacking  them.  For  nearly  half  an  hour  not  a 
141 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

sound  was  to  be  heard  but  the  occasional  sleepy  call 
of  a  sentuiel  on  the  cliff.  Then  came  the  long  soul- 
searching  cry  of  the  owl,  echoing  through  the  woods, 
and  then  such  blood-curdling  yells  and  cries  as 
torture  the  memory  of  the  man  who  has  heard 
them. 

The  red  men  who  had  ventured  once  more  from 
their  eastern  haunts  on  a  foraging  expedition  were 
caught  napping.  They  had  slept  little  for  several 
nights.  The  handful  of  hunters  were  not  numerous 
enough  to  cause  them  much  anxiety,  so  they  had  set 
a  few  men  to  watch  and  given  themselves  up  to  the 
Sleep  Spirit.  When  the  white  men  rushed  upon 
them,  many  of  them  were  far  off  in  the  land  of 
dreams  and  the  journey  back  was  too  long  for  them. 
A  few  made  a  feeble  attempt  to  defend  themselves, 
but  the  terror  of  the  darkness  was  upon  them,  and  the 
chill  of  the  morning  robbed  them  of  courage.  Only 
a  few  of  them  escaped,  and  most  of  them  were 
hunted  down  in  the  woods  in  the  days  that  followed. 

With  the  morning  light,  Om  and  his  men  stood 
upon  the  edge  of  the  cliff  and  looked  down  upon 
the  besieged.  At  a  glance  they  could  see  why  the 
red  men  had  not  rushed  in  and  made  an  end  of 
them.  In  the  middle  of  the  small  valley,  in  a  little 
open  meadow,  was  a  heap  of  stones,  large  enough 
to  shield  the  hunters  from  the  arrows  of  their  ene- 
mies, with  no  cover  on  any  side  for  an  attacking 
party.  A  number  of  dead  bodies  in  the  open  showed 
how  the  red  men  had  learned  their  lesson.  The 
body  of  one  lay  quite  near  the  stone  shelter  and 
142 


THE    FIRST   ARTIST 

was  so  pierced  with  arrows  that  it  looked  like  a 
porcupine. 

At  a  shout  from  the  cliffs,  the  besieged  hunters 
cautiously  raised  their  heads  and  saw  their  fellow 
tribesmen  lining  the  cliff  which  had  been  crowded 
with  cruel  red  faces  the  night  before.  With  a 
great  shout  they  rushed,  not  towards  their  rescuers 
but  to  the  river,  where  they  plunged  in  and  drank 
like  thirsty  animals,  for  they  had  been  for  more 
than  two  days  and  nights  without  water. 

When  the  rescuers  and  rescued  at  last  met  and 
the  story  was  told,  Let  was  its  hero.  If  it  had  not 
been  for  him,  there  would  have  been  no  one  left 
to  tell  the  story.  They  had  been  resting  after  an 
unsuccessful  hunt,  not  far  from  the  rock  fort  in 
which  they  had  taken  refuge  later,  when  the  red 
men  attacked  them.  As  it  happened,  Let  was  try- 
ing to  draw  the  outline  of  the  Hill  of  the  Goats 
on  a  piece  of  bark  when  he  saw  the  red  men 
approaching  and  gave  warning.  Without  the  warn- 
ing the  hunters  would  have  had  no  chance.  It  was 
Let  also  who  had  crawled  to  the  river  with  his 
bark  message,  under  shelter  of  darkness,  and  then 
come  back  to  his  companions  when  he  might  have 
tried  to  escape  by  the  river.  In  fact,  it  was  as 
he  was  returning  that  he  had  been  discovered  and 
wounded. 

After  the  men  had  fed  and  rested,  they  made  a 

litter  of  fir  boughs  and  tenderly  placed  the  wounded 

Let  upon  it  and  bore  him  back  in  triumph  to  the 

village.     Long  before  the  main  body  arrived,  mes- 

H3 


AROUND    THE    FIRE 

sengers  had  carried  the  news,  and  as  they  entered 
the  village  the  street  was  lined  with  eager  women 
and  children  and  old  people.  When  the  litter  ap- 
peared, with  Om  walking  a  few  feet  in  advance, 
they  raised  a  great  shout :  "  Om !  Om !  Slayer  of 
the  red  men !  "  There  was  a  moment's  silence  and 
then  another  shout:  "Let  of  the  talking  hand  and 
the  brave  heart,  maker  of  pictures !  "  At  the  shout- 
ing Let  raised  his  head  with  difficulty  and  looked, 
not  at  the  shouting  crowd,  but  at  Saxa's  face  as  she 
came  to  meet  him  with  a  light  more  .beautiful  than 
that  of  morning  in  her  eyes. 

And  Om  took  Let  to  his  own  cave,  and  Ulma 
put  healing  herbs  on  his  wound,  and  Saxa  fed  him, 
as  a  bird  mother  feeds  her  young,  till  his  strength 
came  back. 

At  the  great  fire  Let  of  the  thinking  hand  came 
into  his  man-right  and  sat  among  the  men  of  the 
tribe.  And  so  Let  became  the  first  artist,  and  men 
loved  him  because  he  was  loved  of  Odin. 


144 


SAX,   THE    FIRST    MUSICIAN 


XII.   SAX,  THE   FIRST   MUSICIAN 

EVEN  in  the  boyhood  of  Ang  the  oldest  could 
not  say  who  was  the  first  singer.  When 
Ang  was  old  and  wise  and  had  seen  many  things 
and  pondered  on  them,  he  told  the  children,  as  they 
came  to  him  to  hear  of  times  long  gone,  that  sing- 
ing began  with  man  and  Ad  sang  to  Eva  as  the 
thrush  sings  to  his  mate.  But  music  was  born  in 
the  village  of  Angwang,  and  Sax,  son  of  Saxa 
and  Let,  was  the  first  musician,  and  this  is  the  story 
of  how  the  Great  One  gave  him  the  power  to  make 
the  reeds  sing. 

Now  Let  became  the  husband  of  Saxa,  and  the 
men  of  the  village  of  Angwang  made  a  cave  home 
for  them  almost  as  large  and  fine  as  that  of  Om 
the  chief,  for  they  all  loved  him  for  his  smiling 
face,  joyous  voice,  and  brave  heart,  and  reverenced 
him  because, the  Great  One  had  given  him  the  power 
to  make  the  charred  wood  and  sharp  flint  speak. 
Next  to  Ang,  the  aged  priest,  and  Om,  the  great 
war-chief,  he  was  most  honored. 

And  Let  did  more  than  make  pictures  on  clay, 

stone,  bark,  and  the  skin  of  animals.     With  great 

care  he  made  better  pictures  for  words  which  even 

the  children  could  learn  to  read  and  write.     So  it 

H7 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

came  to  be  that  men  who  went  on  long  journeys 
could  send  back  messages  to  those  at  home  on  bits 
of  bark  or  wood.  Children  came  to  the  cave  of 
Let,  and  he  showed  them  how  to  use  the  charcoal 
and  pick,  how  to  picture  the  things  which  they 
saw  and  to  make  signs  to  stand  for  pictures.  They 
came  so  early  and  stayed  so  long  that  Saxa  had 
to  drive  them  away  sometimes,  and  the  old  people 
grumbled  because  the  young  people  liked  to  make 
pictures  so  much  better  than  to  tend  goats  or  bring 
wood. 

There  came  to  the  cave  of  Saxa  and  Le.t  from 
the  land  of  the  little  folk,  which  is  near  the  dwelling 
of  Odin  and  Freya,  a  son,  and  they  called  him  Sax. 
As  he  grew  to  be  a  man,  there  was  no  one  like  him 
in  all  the  village.  He  was  big  like  his  grand- 
father Om ;  he  had  the  cunning  hand  of  his  father 
Let  and  he  was  a  dreamer  of  dreams  like  his  mother 
Saxa.  The  Great  Spirit  had  given  him  all  the  gifts 
but  one.  His  voice  was  hoarse  like  the  raven's,  and 
yet  the  spirit  of  song  was  in  him  and  he  tried  again 
and  again  to  sing,  but  even  the  boys  who  loved 
him  and  the  girls  who  admired  him  could  not  hide 
their  laughter. 

Sax  could  do  everything  except  sing,  and  that 
was  the  thing  which  he  most  longed  to  be  able  to 
do.  He  went  far  away  into  the  woods,  where  no 
one  would  hear  him,  and  tried  to  bring  music  to 
his  tongue,  but  it  was  useless.  Sax's  ear  was  good, 
though  his  voice  was  poor,  and  he  finally  gave  it 
up;  but  still  the  spirit  of  song  within  him  called. 
148 


SAX,   THE    MUSICIAN 

And  the  time  came  when  the  call  became  so  loud 
that  he  could  not  escape  from  it  day  or  night. 

In  the  village  of  Sutlack  on  the  plains  there  was 
a  girl  whose  name  was  Lala,  and  she  sang  so  that 
the  birds  would  stop  to  listen  and  men's  hearts  kept 
time  to  the  pulsing  of  her  song.  As  Sax  heard  her, 
it  seemed  as  if  his  heart  would  burst  with  its  long- 
ing to  pour  out  its  own  love  in  an  answering  song. 
Once  a  hoarse  note  escaped  him,  but  the  look  on 
Lala's  startled  face  stopped  all  its  fellows  in  his 
throat  and  he  never  tried  to  sing  again.  But  the 
love  of  Sax  for  Lala  grew,  and  he  could  find  no 
language  for  it  which  would  reach  the  heart  of  the 
girl.  With  the  intuition  of  a  lover,  he  knew  that 
melody  was  the  only  path  to  the  heart  of  Lala  — 
and  he  was  dumb.  He  brought  the  finest  of  game 
and  -the  choicest  of  fruits  and  nuts  and  left  them 
at  the  cave  of  Lack,  her  grandfather,  but  she  gave  no 
sign.  While  she  looked  on,  he  excelled  all  the  young 
men  of  the  tribe  in  running  and  wrestling  and 
shooting,  but  she  listened  to  the  song  of  the  birds 
and  cared  nothing  for  his  strength  and  skill.  There 
was  not  a  girl  in  the  village  of  Angwang  or  the 
village  of  Sutlack  who  would  not  have  been  glad 
to  share  the  cave  of  Sax,  except  Lala,  and  Sax 
cared  only  for  her. 

Now  Ang  had  gone  his  way  to  the  land  of  the 
fathers,  but  Oma  lingered.  She  was  almost  blind 
and  had  to  be  carried  to  the  council  fire  of  her 
people.  But  as  the  outer  eye  grew  dim  the  inner 
eye  grew  bright,  and  there  was  no  one  in  the  north 
149 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

land  who  was  so  wise  as  Oma.  She  was  wise  with 
the  wisdom  of  the  fathers.  In  the  long  years  of  her 
journey  in  the  land  of  Now  she  had  seen  and 
heard  many  things  and  learned  their  meaning, 
but  more  than  these  the  Wise  One  had  given 
her  the  power  to  read  the  heart  as  Om  had  read 
the  woods  and  the  streams.  And  Sax  came  to  Oma 
and  told  her  his  trouble.  The  old  woman  listened 
in  silence  and  made  no  answer  for  so  long  that 
Sax  thought  she  had  not  heard  and  began  to  tell 
his  story  again.  Then  Oma  roused  herself  as  from 
a  dream:  "  No,  I  heard  thee.  My  spirit  has  been 
living  again  the  days  that  are  gone.  I  have  been 
hearing  again  the  spring  song  of  Ang,  and  my  heart 
has  been  again  the  heart  of  a  girl.  There  is  no 
road  to  the  heart  of  Lala  but  that  of  song,  and 
the  Great  One  has  not  given  thee  the  singing 
tongue." 

The  heart  of  Sax  sank  within  his  breast,  and  he 
sat  long  in  silence  with  his  head  bowed.  Then  he 
turned  again  to  the  old  woman :  "  Is  there  no  other 
way?"  'There  is  none,"  answered  Oma,  and  it 
seemed  the  voice  of  fate.  "  Then,"  said  Sax,  "  I 
will  find  that  way."  As  he  knelt  by  the  old  woman's 
knee,  he  straightened  himself  and  threw  back  his 
head  as  if  challenging  invisible  enemies.  And  she 
laid  her  hand  upon  his  head  and  pushed  his  hair 
back  from  his  brow,  murmuring  to  herself.  .Ang 
and  Om  and  Saxa  —  they  all  lived  there,  and  her 
own  blood  was  his.  Then  a  light  came  to  her  face: 
"  In  time  of  need  Odin  has  spoken  to  the  people. 
150 


SAX,   THE    MUSICIAN 

In  the  cruel  cold  he  spoke  to  Ang  in  the  tongues  of 
fire.  He  gave  to  Oma  the  secret  of  the  clay.  He 
taught  Rang  to  make  the  wood  and  stone  and 
copper  his  servants.  He  showed  to  Om  the  smoke 
trail.  He  made  Ulu  the  master  of  the  winds.  He 
gave  to  Let  the  speaking  hand.  Go  follow  the 
stream  as  it  sings  its  way  to  the  Great  Water  and 
listen  for  the  voice  of  the  Revealer.  It  may  be 
that  he  will  show  you  how  to  follow  the  trail 
which  leads  to  the  heart  of  Lala." 

So  Sax  took  a  skiff  which  he  had  made  for  him- 
self, one  lighter  and  swifter  than  any  that  he  had 
made  before,  and  followed  the  singing  water.  In 
the  morning  he  heard  the  song  of  the  birds.  At 
noon  he  drowsed  to  the  humming  of  insects.  At 
night  he  listened  to  the  music  of  the  stream,  and  his 
soul  was  stored  with  harmony  and  melody,  but  it 
could  find  no  voice. 

At  last  he  came  to  the  Father  of  Waters.  All 
day  long  he  heard  the  thousand  voices  of  the  sea 
and  sky  and  land  mingling  about  him.  Song,  song 
everywhere  but  on  the  lips  of  Sax.  Where  was 
the  Keeper  of  Secrets?  Had  he  gone  on  a  long 
journey?  Had  he  forgotten?  Had  he  no  more 
secrets?  Was  it  too  great  a  task  even  for  the 
Great  One  to  give  song  to  the  one  who  had  none? 
He  fell  into  a  troubled  sleep  upon  the  sand,  but  was 
awakened  by  a  soft  sweet  sound  at  his  ear,  a  sound 
which  seemed  to  bring  together  all  the  mystic  melo- 
dies of  earth  and  air  and  water.  He  lay  very  still, 
fearing  that  the  music  would  vanish  like  a  dream  of 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

the  night,  but  it  did  not.  He  slowly  turned  his  head 
and  saw  near  him  a  great  shell.  Taking  it  in  his 
hands,  he  pressed  it  close  to  his  ear  and  listened  with 
delight  to  the  wonderful  songs  of  the  sea.  His  heart 
beat  heavily  and  his  breath  came  quickly.  Perhaps  the 
secret  was  hidden  in  the  heart  of  the  shell. 

The  next  day  he  listened  to  the  heart  of  many 
shells.  He  found  that  different  shells  made  dif- 
ferent sounds  in  different  keys.  But  still  the  secret 
was  not  his.  How  could  he  make  them  sing  his 
song  instead  of  their  own?  He  found  that  he 
could  make  a  sound  which  was  clear  and  sweet  by 
blowing  on  the  lips  of  some  of  them,  but  it  takes 
more  than  one  note  to  make  music. 

Day  after  day  he  wandered  on  the  shore  and 
tried  to  pluck  the  secret  of  song  from  the  heart  of 
the  shell.  He  collected  shells  of  all  sizes  and  ar- 
ranged them  before  him  and  by  blowing  one  after 
another  finally  made  a  series  of  sounds  which  were 
something  like  a  musical  scale,  but  Sax  knew  that 
the  songs  which  pressed  behind  his  dumb  lips  could 
never  find  voice  through  such  slow  and  uncertain 
sounds  as  these.  He  must  search  again.  He  lay 
down  on  the  sand  discouraged  but  not  defeated. 
He  would  not  go  back  until  he  had  found  it. 

As  he  lay  full  length  on  the  white  beach  looking 
out  upon  the  waters  and  wondering  if  the  secret 
lay  beyond  it,  his  hand,  as  it  played  with  the  sand, 
fell  upon  a  dry  reed  which  some  high  tide  had  cast 
above  the  ordinary  level  of  the  waves.  He  toyed 
with  it  unthinking  and  unseeing,  little  dreaming  that 
152 


SAX,   THE    MUSICIAN 

he  held  the  magic  wand  of  music  within  his  grasp. 
With  thoughts  still  trying  to  span  the  sea,  he  idly 
held  the  reed  in  his  hand.  It  was  hard  as  a  stick, 
but  so  light  that  it  finally  drew  his  wandering 
attention.  He  glanced  at  it.  It  was  hollow.  He 
held  it  to  his  eye  towards  the  light,  and  not  being  able 
to  see  through  it,  tried  to  blow  out  the  dried  pith 
which  stuck  in  one  end.  As  he  did  so  carelessly, 
he  blew  across  the  open  end  of  the  reed,  and  was 
called  back  from  the  land  of  aimless  dreams  by  a 
low,  soft  whistle.  He  blew  again,  and  louder. 
Again  the  answering  note,  only  clearer  and  stronger, 
a  note  which  stirred  the  heart  like  the  woodsy 
whistle  of  the  thrush.  He  started  to  his  feet  with 
a  cry  of  joy.  While  he  looked  afar,  the  secret  lay 
at  his  feet.  In  his  excitement  he  broke  the  fragile 
reed  in  two.  With  sinking  heart  he  looked  at  it. 
Had  he  lost  it  so  soon  after  finding  it?  He  blew 
again  on  one  of  the  shorter  pieces.  Again  an  an- 
swering whistle,  but  this  time  higher  and  more 
shrill. 

Joy  filled  his  heart.  At  last  the  Revealer  had 
spoken.  The  reeds  should  give  voice  to  the  songs 
of  his  soul.  With  anxious  care  he  sought  for  reeds 
of  varied  lengths  and  varied  sizes  in  the  marshes 
which  bordered  the  mouth  of  the  river.  He  tested 
each  till  he  found  what  suited  him ;  then  he  bound 
them  together.  It  was  a  crude  thing,  and  yet  the 
soul  of  Sax  was  so  full  of  music  that  he  made  it 
sing.  Then  he  made  better  and  better  ones.  At 
last  he  made  one  out  of  a  kind  of  pith  alder,  which 
153 


AROUND   THE   FIRE 

satisfied  him.  He  arranged  its  pipes  so  that  he 
could  sound  a  series  of  notes  from  low  to  high. 
Then  he  began  to  imitate  upon  it  the  song  of  birds 
and  at  last  the  songs  of  Lala  and  the  songs  which 
he  had  made  for  her  and  could  not  sing  before. 

As  the  days  went  by,  his  skill  grew  greater  and 
the  songs  sweeter.  He  tired  of  playing  to  him- 
self, the  sea,  and  the  woods.  The  reeds  must  sing 
to  Lala.  Each  night  as  he  camped  by  the  river's 
bank  on  his  home  journey  he  taught  his  pipe  new 
and  more  beautiful  love  songs. 

Sax  drew  near  to  the  village  of  Sutlack  just  as 
the  sun  was  setting.  Instead  of  going  ashore  he 
fastened  his  skiff  near  the  hut  of  Lack  and  waited. 
Suddenly  there  came  from  the  top  of  a  tree  just 
above  him  a  song  more  beautiful  than  any  he  had 
ever  heard  before.  It  was  Lala,  who,  like  the  birds, 
loved  to  sing  from  the  upper  air  of  the  tree  tops. 
Again  and  again  she  sang,  and  Sax  listened  in  a 
dream  of  love  and  wonder.  At  last  she  stopped 
and  for  a  moment  there  was  silence ;  then  there 
came  up  as  if  from  the  heart  of  the  river  such 
music  as  Lala  had  never  heard  before  and  never 
dreamed  of.  She  listened  breathlessly  with  heart 
keeping  time  with  the  melody. 

Sax's  soul  poured  out  music  till  the  valley  seemed 
full  to  overflowing  and  spilled  a  stream  of  song 
over  the  encircling  hills.  The  villagers  listened  in 
wonder  and  awe,  thinking  it  the  song  of  the  River 
Spirit.  Lala,  after  the  first  delight  and  wonder, 
peered  down  through  the  branches  and  saw  Sax 
154 


SAX,   THE    MUSICIAN 

and  his  singing  pipes.  As  she  listened,  she  seemed 
to  hear  the  very  soul  of  Sax  finding  voice,  and  the 
soul  of  all  things,  and  most  of  all  her  own  soul. 

By  and  by  she  came  down  to  the  river's  bank, 
and  Sax  found  his  way  to  the  heart  of  Lala  by 
the  path  of  song,  for  he  gave  a  voice  and  a  soul 
to  the  reeds. 

So  Sax  became  the  first  musician  and  the  father 
of  those  who  give  to  nature  and  to  man  a  thou- 
sand voices  and  enrich  life  with  melody  and 
harmony. 


155 


THE  CALL  OF  THE   GREAT  WATER 


XIII.  THE  CALL  OF  THE  GREAT 
WATER 

UL  and  Ulu  grew  to  be  men  and  mighty  hunters. 
They  had  caves  of  their  own,  sat  among  the 
men  of  their  tribe  at  the  council  fire,  and  had 
enough  to  eat  and  to  wear.  Many  of  the  young 
men  of  the  tribe  envied  them  and  said,  "  If  we 
had  as  much  as  Ul  and  Ulu,  we  should  want  no 
more."  But  the  young  men  themselves  were  rest- 
less and  cared  less  and  less  for  the  ordinary  life 
of  their  tribe.  Day  and  night  they  heard  the  lap 
of  the  waves  on  the  distant  shore  of  the  Great 
Water,  and  the  unknown  beyond  beckoned  them. 
They  said  but  little  to  each  other,  but  each  knew 
that  the  same  hidden  fire  of  unrest  burned  in  the 
heart  of  the  other. 

Often  they  climbed  to  the  highest  peak  of  the 
Black  Hills  and  looked  eagerly  to  the  western  sky. 
They  built  larger  and  larger  dug-outs,  felling  and 
hollowing  out  the  trunks  of  enormous  trees.  At  last 
they  fashioned  one  large  enough  to  carry  a  dozen 
men  and  they  fitted  it  with  two  sails,  a  great  steer- 
ing paddle,  and  a  covered  hatch  in  front.  With 
some  other  adventurous  men  of  their  own  age  they 
followed  the  .stream  to  the  sea  and  spent  weeks 
159 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

feasting  on  the  sea  food,  taking  short  voyages  to 
test  their  boat,  yielding  more  and  more  to  the 
magnetic  pull  of  the  West,  and  —  the  Mystery  be- 
yond. A  few  experiments  convinced  Ulu,  who  was 
by  common  consent  master  sailor,  that  their  boat, 
large  as  it  seemed  on  the  river,  was  not  large 
enough  for  the  Great  Water.  It  was  long  and 
narrow,  without  a  keel,  and  it  rolled  and  tipped 
dangerously,  even  in  a  moderate  sea.  When  they 
headed  it  into  waves  of  any  size,  the  water  would 
come  over  the  low  bow  and  swamp  it.  Again  and 
again  they  had  to  swim  ashore,  pushing  their  water- 
logged craft  before  them. 

Instead  of  going  back  to  the  village  of  Angwang 
as  they  had  done  before,  Ul  and  Ulu  and  their 
companions  found  a  sheltered  cave  not  far  from 
the  mouth  of  the  river  and  built  huts  for  themselves 
and  laid  the  foundations  of  a  village.  Food  was 
plenty,  and  they  gave  themselves  to  learning  the 
ways  of  the  sea.  Ulu  undertook  the  problem  of 
making  a  bigger  boat.  No  tree  trunk  was  large 
enough,  so  they  fastened  two  great  trunks  together 
with  great  wooden  pins,  laboriously  boring  holes 
with  a  sand  drill,  an  invention  of  Rang's.  It  took 
them  months  to  finish  the  big  dug-out,  and  when  it 
was  finished  it  was  little,  if  any,  better  than  those 
made  of  a  single  tree  trunk. 

Ul  shook  his  head,  saying  it  could  not  be  done, 

and  the  others  agreed,  excepting  Ulu.     While  the 

others  gave  themselves  up  to  fishing  and  hunting, 

he  went  off  by  himself.     If  old  Rang  had  been  with 

160 


THE   GREAT   WATER 

them,  he  would  have  said,  as  he  had  said  so  often 
when  they  were  boys,  "  When  the  thing  is  too  big, 
think."  So  he  thought  and  thought  and  thought 
again.  He  made  little  models  of  boats  of  various 
shapes,  from  soft  wood,  and  floated  them  on  the 
bay  to  see  how  they  would  take  the  smaller 
waves,  but  all,  as  it  seemed,  to  no  purpose.  His 
companions  would  often  point  their  hands  to 
their  heads  with  sober  nods,  when  his  back  was 
turned. 

One  day,  when  a  stiff  breeze  was  blowing,  Ul 
and  two  of  his  companions  went  out  in  the  old 
dug-out,  but  Ulu  stayed  on  the  shore,  thinking, 
and  watching  his  toy  boats.  Soon  he  noticed  that 
the  men  in  the  boat  were  having  bad  weather. 
Though  the  waves  were  not  very  high,  they  were 
sharp  and  crested  and  each  wave  spilled  over  the 
bow.  In  a  few  moments  Ul  gave  it  up  and  brought 
the  boat  back  to  the  beach  nearly  filled  with  water. 
Ulu  shook  his  head.  That  kind  of  a  boat  would 
not  do.  Just  then  his  attention  was  called  to  a 
wild  duck  sitting  easily  on  the  tossing  water.  There 
was  the  model  for  his  sea  boat.  It  must  be  broader, 
and  the  bow  must  be  high  enough  to  throw  back 
the  water,  and  it  must  be  lighter,  so  that  it  could 
rise  quickly  to  meet  the  waves.  But  how  could  it 
be  done?  Ulu  longed  for  the  cunning  hands  and 
contriving  brain  of  Rang,  but  Rang  was  far  away 
and  Rang  was  old.  If  it  was  to  be  done,  he  was  to 
do  it,  so  he  gave  himself  again  to  his  task.  He  made 
models  following  the  lines  of  the  duck  and  found 
161 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

that  they  were  steadier  and  better.  But  the  prob- 
lem was  to  make  one  large  enough  and  light 
enough.  It  could  not  be  made  by  hollowing  logs. 
There  must  be  some  other  way. 

One  day,  as  he  wandered  upon  the  beach  in  deep 
discouragement  and  all  but  ready  to  give  it  up 
and  go  back  to  the  village  and  live  as  his  fathers 
had  done  before  him,  he  came  upon  the  carcase  of 
a  porpoise  which  had  been  tossed  up  by  the  waves. 
Gulls  and  vultures  had  picked  away  all  the  flesh, 
leaving  only  the  tough  skin  and  bones.  The  birds 
had  been  able  to  get  at  the  flesh  only  through  the 
softer  skin  of  the  upturned  belly,  so  the  skin  on 
the  sides  and  back  was  unbroken.  He  pushed  it 
into  the  water  with  his  foot,  where  it  floated  as 
lightly  as  a  hollow  tree.  A  gust  of  wind  caught  it 
and  it  sailed  swiftly  from  him.  With  a  cry  Ulu 
dashed  after  it  into  the  water  and  caught  it  with 
great  difficulty.  Perhaps  here  was  the  secret.  He 
dragged  it  above  the  reach  of  the  waves  and  studied 
it.  The  bones  made  a  light  framework;  the  dried 
skin  a  perfect  covering. 

For  weeks  Ulu  and  Ul  and  their  companions 
labored  at  a  new  type  of  boat.  First  they  made  a 
framework  of  ash,  like  the  skeleton  of  the  fish 
model.  Then  they  covered  it  with  skins  collected 
with  great  care  and  sewed  together  with  sinews. 
Finally  they  covered  it  with  pitch  to  keep  out  the 
water  and  protect  the  skins.  When  it  was  finished, 
it  did  not  look  very  well,  but  it  was,  after  all,  a 
better  sea  boat  than  the  narrow  rolling  dug-out. 
162 


THE   GREAT   WATER 

It  was  light  and  elastic,  but  with  considerable 
strength  and  carrying  power. 

After  a  few  trial  trips  to  test  its  sea-going  quali- 
ties, Ulu  and  his  companions  fitted  it  for  a  longer 
voyage  than  they  had  ever  attempted  before.  They 
filled  goatskins  with  water  and  stored  dried  venison 
and  wheat  flour  under  a  rude  hatch  in  front.  The 
other  men  expected  to  take  a  trip  up  the  shore,  but 
not  out  of  sight  of  land,  but  Ulu  and  Ul  had  hearts 
set  on  the  Great  Beyond  and  eyes  searching  the 
far  horizon. 

They  set  sail  on  a  beautiful  spring  morning.  The 
blue  of  the  sea  answered  the  blue  of  the  sky.  A  soft 
land  breeze  pushed  them  gently  seaward.  The  sun 
was  rising  from  great  white  pillows  of  cloud.  Never 
had  there  been  a  fairer  morning  than  this  on  which 
these  pioneer  voyagers  set  sail.  The  spirits  of  the 
men  were  in  tune  with  the  brightness  of  the  day.  A 
new  world  beckoned  to  them  with  smiles,  as  a  mother 
beckons  to  her  child.  So  they  sailed  and  sailed  with 
their  faces  towards  the  west  and  with  a  following 
wind.  Not  even  the  most  timid  thought  to  look  back. 
Ulu  and  Ul  would  not.  Finally  the  eastern  shore 
sank  back  lower  and  lower,  and  to  east  and  west 
and  north  and  south  there  was  nothing  but  water 
as  far  as  the  eye  could  see. 

As  midday  approached,  it  grew  hotter  and  the 
breeze  died  away.  When  the  weary  men  dropped 
their  paddles  and  reached  for  water,  one  looked 
about  him  and  gave  a  startled  cry.  Where  the 
friendly  and  familiar  shore  had  been,  was  only  the 
163 


AROUND   THE   FIRE 

* 

bluish  smoke  line  of  the  horizon.  For  a  few 
moments  not  a  word  was  spoken.  The  breeze  had 
gone.  There  was  not  a  sound  but  the  sluggish 
lapping  of  the  waves  on  the  boat's  side  and  the 
occasional  call  of  a  gull  as  he  swooped  in  wide 
circles  about  this  strange  new  fish  which  only  swam 
on  the  surface  of  the  water.  They  were  all  brave 
men  in  an  age  when  only  the  brave  could  live,  but 
as  they  looked  stealthily  into  each  other's  faces  they 
saw  the  lurking  shadows  of  fear.  They  had  been 
lonely  before,  but  never  with  a  loneliness  like  this. 
There  was  not  the  comfort  of  a  single  familiar 
landmark.  In  the  blue  haze  of  the  midday  there 
was  a  strange  look  in  each  face.  When  one  spoke, 
he  seemed  startled  at  the  sound  of  his  own  voice  and 
did  not  speak  again. 

Ulu  alone  did  not  seem  moved  by  the  strange 
new  isolation  of  mid-sea.  Ul  looked  at  him  ques- 
tioningly,  but  his  gaze  did  not  waver  from  the 
western  horizon.  It  was  as  if  he  saw  something 
beyond  their  vision  which  held  him  by  its  magic 
spell  as  the  serpent  holds  the  charmed  bird.  The 
men  whispered  to  each  other  and  started  guiltily  at 
their  rough  breathing.  The  heat  was  great  and  .the 
men  were  wet  with  sweat,  but  they  shivered  now  and 
then.  When  Ulu,  as  if  waking  from  a  trance,  gave 
the  signal  to  go  on,  they  paddled  feverishly,  glad  of 
the  diversion  of  occupation.  They  wished  that  he 
would  turn  the  bow  of  the  boat  to  the  east,  but  there 
was  something  in  the  faces  of  the  brothers  which 
kept  them  silent  as  the  boat  headed  always  west. 
164 


THE   GREAT   WATER 

As  for  Ulu,  he  thought  of  nothing  but  the  some- 
thing just  beyond  the  horizon,  and  Ul  studied  noth- 
ing but  the  face  of  his  brother.  Only  the  brain  of 
Ulu  and  the  favor  of  Odin  could  save  them  from 
—  he  knew  not  what.  Still  Ulu  gave  no  sign.  If 
he  had  been  wiser  in  the  ways  of  the  sea,  he  would 
have  known  that  deadly  danger  lurked  in  the  sky 
above  them  and  in  the  water  about  them.  The 
wind  ceased  entirely.  A  fog  slowly  rose  and  en- 
veloped them,  but  so  gradually  they  could  not  tell 
when  it  came.  The  water  about  them  changed  from 
purple  to  an  oily  black,  and  at  last  the  gray  blanket 
hid  even  that.  Ulu,  as  he  sat  at  the  stern,  grew 
dimmer  and  dimmer  till  the  man  who  sat  next  him 
reached  out  his  hand  and  touched  him  to  be  sure 
he  was  there.  The  men  stopped  paddling  and  lis- 
tened, breathless.  In  the  great  silence  even  the 
dripping  of  their  paddles  startled  them.  What 
next? 

Now  that  the  western  horizon  had  been  hidden 
from  him,  Ulu  seemed  to  waken  as  from  a  dream. 
For  the  first  time  he  felt  the  grip  of  fear  on  his 
own  heart.  Perhaps  the  spirits  of  the  Beyond  did 
not  love  men  and  had  sent  this  great  mist  to  blind 
prying  eyes.  But  what  could  he  do  ?  He  could  not 
tell  the  sun  rising  from  the  sun  setting  when  he 
could  hardly  see  his  hand  before  his  face.  For  the 
first  time  he  realized  what  it  would  mean  if  he 
had  been  wrong  and  had  gone  against  the  will  of 
the  Great  Ones.  These  men,  his  companions,  would 
pay  the  penalty  of  his  folly. 
165 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

+ 

As  he  sat  with  head  bowed  on  his  breast,  a  breath 
of  cool  air  touched  his  face.  There  was  a  rustling 
in  the  air  above  them.  The  mantle  of  mist  lifted  ; 
the  black  water  appeared  again,  and  at  last  the 
wide  expanse  of  the  sea,  but  a  very  different  sea. 
It  looked  like  the  face  of  a  swarthy  giant  just 
breaking  into  uncontrollable  rage.  It  did  not  need 
the  skilled  eye  of  a  seaman  to  see  that  worse  was 
coming,  and  it  came  with  terrible  rapidity.  About 
them  the  sea  was  black.  To  the  southeast  there 
appeared  a  gray  blue  streak  of  rumpled  water  that 
rushed  towards  them  with  an  ominous  whistling 
sound,  like  that  of  wind  in  the  tree  tops;  a  gust 
smote  them  on  the  quarter,  and  their  frail  bark 
rocked  dangerously ;  then  the  storm  closed  in  upon 
them.  Gray  wolf  waves  rushed  at  them,  and  the 
salt  foam  from  their  hungry  jaws  flicked  the  faces 
of  the  frightened  men.  Above  them  the  huntsmen 
of  the  air  swept  by  with  awful  roar,  hurling  their 
bolts  of  fire.  The  wind  lashed  them  and  slashed 
them  and  tossed  them.  Following  a  blind  instinct 
rather  than  reason,  Ulu  kept  his  men  paddling 
steadily  against  the  wind.  Sometimes  green  water 
came  over  the  gunwale  and  two  men  had  to  bail  for 
life.  A  hundred  times  it  seemed  as  if  the  end  had 
come,  and  the  men  would  have  dropped  their  paddles 
if  it  had  not  been  for  Ulu.  With  the  danger  his 
courage  grew.  The  storm  was  not  so  terrifying  as 
the  gray  stillness  which  had  come  before  it. 

And  at  last  they  outrode  the  storm,  and  when 
the  clouds  parted  and  the  wind  had  gone  roaring 
1 66 


THE   GREAT   WATER 

back  to  its  northern  dens  and  the  sea  grew  more 
quiet,  the  sun  looked  down  on  one  of  the  strangest 
crews  that  ever  sailed  the  sea.  The  boat  had  been 
badly  strained  in  the  storm  and  leaked  so  fast  that 
half  of  the  men  had  to  bail  in  order  to  keep  it  afloat. 
Water  still  trickled  from  their  matted  hair,  down 
their  streaming  backs.  In  the  eyes  of  the  men  was 
the  wild  look  often  seen  in  the  faces  of  those  who 
have  been  almost  drowned.  But  in  Ulu's  face  shone 
the  light  of  conquest.  The  black  ones  had  fled  and 
they  were  still  alive.  "  Look,"  cried  he,  pointing 
to  the  northwest,  "  they  have  gone.  We  are  here. 
The  land  of  the  sun-setting  calls  us." 

The  western  horizon,  cleared  by  the  storm,  was 
now  clearly  marked  by  a  land  line  which  grew 
thicker  and  thicker  as  they  paddled  towards  it. 
Just  at  sunset  they  came  to  a  low-lying  coast  wooded 
to  the  very  shores  and  dragged  their  boat  on  the 
beach.  It  was  fortunate  that  they  had  reached 
land  when  they  did,  for  the  boat  would  have  floated 
only  a  few  hundred  yards  more. 

Weary  and  exhausted,  they  made  no  other  prep- 
arations for  the  night  than  to  eat  some  of  the 
water-soaked  provisions  and  dig  a  hole  for  a  bed 
in  the  warm  sand.  Through  the  first  part  of  the 
night  they  all  slept  the  sleep  of  utter  exhaustion, 
but  as  the  chill  mist  of  morning  settled  on  shore 
and  sea  Ulu  awoke.  He  tried  again  and  again  to 
go  to  sleep,  but  failed.  When  the  light  began  to 
break,  he  arose  and  decided  to  spy  out  this  new 
land  before  his  companions  awoke. 
167 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

* 

As  he  climbed  a  low  bluff  above  the  beach  where 
his  companions  slept,  the  day  was  breaking.  All 
about  him  was  apparently  trackless  forest.  It  was 
useless  to  try  exploring  it  alone.  He  turned  and 
looked  down  on  his  companions,  who  looked  like 
driftwood  on  the  shore,  and  out  upon  the  sea  which 
they  had  crossed  with  such  danger.  His  heart  sank 
within  him  as  he  thought  of  the  distance  which 
separated  them  from  the  old  familiar  scenes.  Was 
this  the  land  which  had  so  long  lured  him  in  his 
dreams?  Trees,  trees  everywhere.  They  did  not 
need  to  cross  the  great  water  and  risk  their  lives 
to  find  trees. 

He  was  startled  from  his  melancholy  musing  by 
a  sound  like  the  call  of  a  wood  pigeon,  and  turned 
to  see  a  woman  standing  within  a  few  yards  of 
him.  Her  hands  were  extended  toward  him  with 
open  palms,  a  sign  of  peace  as  old  as  the  human  race, 
and  yet  there  was  something  in  her  appearance  more 
terrifying  than  an  armed  man.  Her  long  hair, 
which  hung  in  heavy  masses  on  her  shoulders,  was 
red  — /the  red  that  glows  like  an  ember  in  the  fire 
and  glistens  like  burnished  bronze  in  the  sun./  Her 
face  showed,  even  in  the  dim  morning  light,  the 
plentiful  kisses  of  the  sun.  Her  body  was  more 
powerful  than  that  of  any  woman  whom  Ulu  had 
ever  seen,  but  still  had  grace  and  beauty.  She  was 
young,  younger  than  Ulu,  and,  as  he  thought,  the 
most  wonderful  and  beautiful  woman  he  had  ever 
seen,  and  yet  there  was  something  about  her  to  bring 
fear  to  the  heart  of  even  a  brave  man.  The  some- 
168 


THE   GREAT   WATER 

thing  was  in  her  eyes,  which  were  the  gray  blue 
of  the  veldt,  and  in  the  expression  of  her  face. 
Her  eyes  seemed  to  look  through  Ulu  and  beyond ; 
they  pierced  him  like  arrows ;  they  cut  him  like 
knives,  and  yet  it  seemed  as  if  she  saw  not  him 
but  something  in  him  or  behind  him.  Her  face  had 
the  texture  of  a  child's,  but  the  look  of  one  who 
has  seen  nothing  but  bloodshed  and  cruelty  for  twice 
a  lifetime,  a  face  terrifying  because  of  its  mingling 
of  age  with  youth  and  grimness  with  beauty. 

Though  she  said  not  a  word  and  only  looked 
fixedly  at  him,  Ulu  knew  that  she  was  one  of  those 
whose  spirits  had  wandered  from  their  bodies,  driven 
out  perhaps  by  some  horror  of  fear  or  suffering. 
Under  the  woman's  look,  Ulu's  dread  and  uncer- 
tainty grew,  and  he  tried  to  slip  away  to  his  com- 
panions. He  had  taken  only  a  step  or  two,  how- 
ever, when  he  was  stopped  by  the  pressure  of  a 
hand  on  his  shoulder.  The  touch  was  light  as  that 
of  Ulma,  but  the  hand  of  the  giant  Om  could  not 
have  stopped  him  more  quickly.  He  was  more  terri- 
fied than  he  had  ever  been  in  his  life  before,  but 
he  was  as  helpless  to  resist  as  a  child  in  the  hands 
of^its  mother. 

Without  speaking  or  looking  at  him,  she  gazed 
at  his  companions  on  the  shore  for  a  time.  Then 
she  turned  and,  taking  his  hand  in  hers,  led  him 
by  a  narrow  path  into  the  woods.  Fearful  and 
reluctant  as  he  was,  he  followed  her  «r  unques- 
tioninglyfes  one  in  a  hypnotic  trance.  For  the  time 
he  had  no  will  but  that  of  the  mysterious  woman. 
169 


AROUND   T-HE    FIRE 

Silently  but  swiftly  she  led  him  by  a  tortuous 
trail  into  the  heart  of  the  forest  where  the  shadows 
of  night  still  lingered.  At  last  they  drew  near  a 
clearing,  as  Ulu  could  tell  by  the  growing  light, 
and  the  woman  left  the  beaten  path,  leading  him 
stealthily  to  a  screen  of  bushes  from  which  they 
'could  see  across  an  open  space. 

It  was  a  weird  spectacle  on  which  Ulu  looked 
out.  In  the  center  of  the  open  spot,  which  was 
shaped  like  a  small  amphitheater,  was  a  stone  altar, 
made  by  placing  a  large  flat  rock  on  four  sup- 
porting stones.  On  the  top  of  it  lay  the  naked 
body  of  a  child,  whose  beauty  could  be  seen  even 
in  the  dim  light.  His  hands  and  feet  were  bound 
fast,  and  his  head  rested  on  a  kind  of  stone  pillow, 
and  his  hair  was  the  color  of  the  sun,  like  that  of 
the  woman  who  stood  by  his  side. 

In  a  circle  about  the  altar  were  crouched  twenty 
or  thirty  men,  black-haired  and  swarthy,  evidently 
waiting  with  grim  patience  for  some  appointed  time. 
At  the  head  of  the  altar,  and  facing  the  east,  stood 
an  old  man  of  striking  and  terrifying  appearance. 
He  was  taller  than  any  man  Ulu  had  ever  seen, 
and  a  great  white  beard  fell  below  his  waist.  In  his 
uplifted  right  hand  he  held  a  great  stone  knife, 
which  he  waved  above  the  child's  head,  while  he 
chanted  a  weird  song  with  a  refrain  in  which  the 
watchers  joined.  When  the  knife  came  near  the 
child's  throat,  the  grip  of  the  woman  on  Ulu's 
arm  seemed  to  cut  into  his  flesh. 

The  scene  needed  no  interpreter.  The  old  man 
170 


THE    GREAT   WATER 

was  a  priest  of  the  sun ;  the  child  with  the  flaming 
red  hair  was  to  be  sacrificed  to  him  as  he  rose  above 
the  circle  of  trees.  At  the  sight  the  trance  into 
which  Ulu  had  been  thrown  by  the  strange  woman 
lifted,  as  the  mist  had  risen  from  the  sea  the  day 
before.  The  red  blood  surged  from  heart  to  brain. 
A  man's  courage  came  back  to  him.  These  were 
men,  not  spirits,  but  men  more  cruel  than  the  red 
men  whom  Om  and  his  people  had  slaughtered. 
The  fighting  spirit  of  his  fathers  rose  in  his  breast, 
but  it  was  to  be  guided  by  the  brain  of  Ulu  the 
cunning. 

The  woman  had  sunk  at  his  feet  as  one  dead, 
all  her  strange  power  gone.  He  looked  toward  the 
east.  There  was  an  hour  before  sunrise.  The  child 
should  not  be  sacrificed  to  the  sun.  Leaving  the 
woman  huddled  on  the  ground,  he  turned  and 
swiftly  followed  the  path  back  to  the  shore.  His 
companions  were  just  rousing  when  he  reached  them. 
He  told  his  story  as  they  were  devouring  the  remains 
of  their  provisions.  They  needed  no  urging.  The 
giant  Ul  shook  his  great  head  and  shoulders  like  a 
bull  about  to  charge.  This  was  his  element,  and 
he  took  command  as  naturally  on  land  as  Ulu  did 
onjthe  sea. 

After  hiding  their  boat  they  swiftly  followed 
Ulu.  Each  carried  a  bronze  axe,  short  sword,  and 
spear. 

They  went  so  swiftly  that  they  reached  the  clear- 
ing in  the  wood  before  the  sun  had  risen  above 
the  tree  tops.  They  came  so  quietly  that  the 
171 


AROUND  THE    FIRE 

watchers  about  the  altar  did  not  suspect  their 
presence.  The  woman  was  still  huddled  upon  the 
ground,  with  her  face  buried  in  her  hands.  The 
aged  priest  still  stood  at  the  head  of  the  altar, 
knife  in  hand,  waiting  for  the  first  rays  of  the 
rising  sun  to  touch  the  head  of  the  victim.  The 
look  of  the  priest  and  of  the  men  who  crouched 
about  him  was  enough  to  bring  terror  even  to  a 
brave  heart.  The  Angwangs  were  outnumbered 
two  to  one,  but  there  was  no  fear  in  the  breast 
of  Ul  or  his  companions. 

As  stealthily  as  the  great  cats  of  their  native 
woods,  they  crept  to  the  shelter  of  a  clump  of 
bushes  just  behind  the  priest.  The  Kelts  faced 
the  east  and  were  watching  intently  the  slow  rising 
of  the  sun  over  the  tree  tops.  A  yellow  shaft  shot 
through  the  trees  above  their  head,  still  another  and 
another,  till  the  trunks  above  their  heads  were 
gilded.  The  priest  raised  his  knife  with  a  frenzied 
gesture  and  began  to  chant  the  death  song,  in  which 
the  others  joined  with  savage  zest. 

Just  as  the  cruel  knife  was  descending  on  the 
throat  of  the  doomed  child,  the  spear  of  Ul,  hurled 
with  terrific  force,  pierced  the  back  of  the  priest, 
its  sharp  point  protruding  from  his  breast.  For  a 
moment  he  stood  upright,  his  knife  still  raised.  A 
stream  of  red  blood  stained  his  white  beard.  The 
cruel  blood  lust  in  his  face  changed  to  one  of  anguish 
and  amazement,  and  he  fell  face  down  upon  the 
altar,  bathing  the  child  with  his  blood. 

The  Kelts  were  brave,  but  they  were  ovcr- 
172 


THE   GREAT   WATER 

whelmed  by  the  suddenness  of  the  attack.  In  prep- 
aration for  the  sacrifice  they  had  fasted  two  days, 
expecting  to  gorge  themselves  at  the  sacrificial  feast. 
Their  rude  stone  weapons  were  no  match  for  the 
bronze  weapons  of  the  Saxons.  And  these  yellow- 
haired  furies  filled  them  with  a  superstitious  dread. 
Perhaps  these  were  the  people  of  the  sun,  who  was 
angry  with  them.  A  few  escaped,  but  most  of  them 
shared  the  fate  of  their  priest. 

When  the  slaughter  was  over,  they  turned  to  the 
altar.  The  woman  had  already  reached  it  and 
unbound  her  child.  As  she  knelt  upon  the  blood- 
soaked  stone  with  her  child  hugged  to  her  breast, 
the  full  light  of  the  summer  sun  streamed  down  upon 
them,  crowning  the  head  of  the  mother  and  child  with 
gold,  and  giving  a  ruddier  tint  to  the  blood  stains. 

With  a  tenderness  surprising  in  such  a  man,  Ul 
led  the  woman  with  her  child  to  the  shelter  of 
the  trees.  Then  they  piled  the  bodies  of  the  slain 
upon  the  altar.  With  a  grim  humor  they  placed 
the  body  of  the  Druid  on  top  with  his  bloodless 
face  towards  the  sun.  Then  they  piled  dry  wood 
about  the  bodies  and  burned  them  as  a  sacrifice  to 
the  sun. 

Near  by  they  found  the  bodies  of  two  stags 
and  preparations  for  a  feast,  and  they  ate  with 
the  appetites  of  wolves,  but  Ul  gave  meat  to  the 
woman  and  the  child  before  he  touched  it  himself. 

As  the  woman  fed  the  child  in  her  arms  and  a 
smile  broke  on  its  face,  the  mist  of  madness  lifted 
from  her,  and  her  tears  rained  down  upon  it.  Ulu 
173 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

looked  at  her  curiously.  She  was  more  beautiful 
than  he  had  thought,  and  he  wondered  why  he  had 
been  afraid  of  her.  He  was  a  little  disappointed 
that  when  she  looked  at  him  she  showed  no  sign  of 
remembering  him ;  and  he  was  a  little  disappointed 
that  she  followed  Ul  as  if  she  had  always  belonged 
to  him,  when  they  returned  to  the  shore.  But  when 
he  saw  Ul  take  up  the  child  and  carry  it,  he  con- 
soled himself  with  the  thought  that  it  was  better 
•  not  to  have  a  woman  and  child  if  one  always  heard 
the  call  of  the  sea  and  had  to  spend  much  time  in 
thinking.  Then  the  woman's  hair  was  very  red, 
though  it  might  be  beautiful  in  a  way,  and  if  she 
should  ever  get  angry  —  why,  it  was  just  as  well 
iJiaL  big  Ul  should  have  her,  yes,  very  much  better. 
r^\  Gradually  they  explored  the  country  about  them. 
They  found  a  place  suitable  for  a  settlement  on 
the  bank  of  a  river.  Occasionally  they  came  upon 
small  villages  of  Kelts  with  black  hair  and  blue 
eyes,  but  only  rarely  did  the  villagers  show  any 
desire  to  fight.  The  fear  of  the  yellow-haired  men 
was  upon  them.  As  time  went  on,  they  became 
friends,  and  the  Saxons  took  wives  from  among 
the  Kelts.  On  the  banks  of  the  Tham  grew  up 
a  village  where  Ul  became  a  great  chief,  and  sons 
and  daughters  with  gold  red  hair  grew  up  about 
him  and  a  new  race  was  born  in  the  new  land. 

But  Ulu  heard  always  the  voice  of  the  sea.  He 
made  bigger  and  bigger  boats,  covering  them  at  last 
with  strips  of  wood  in  place  of  skins,  and  he  took 
longer  and  longer  voyages,  with  those  who,  like 

174 


THE    GREAT    WATER 

himself,  loved  the  toss  of  the  waves  beneath  them 
and  were  never  happy  except  when  steering  where 
men  had  never  been  before. 

So  Ulu  became  a  seaman,  and  Ul  a  pioneer  and 
founder  of  a  race  in  a  new  land,  and  it  was  so 
because  the  Great  One  willed  it. 


175 


THE    STORY   OF   LUP 


XIV.   THE   STORY  OF  LUP 

THERE  grew  up  in  the  village  of  Angwang 
a  boy  whose  name  was  Jut.  His  parents  had 
never  done  anything  to  make  their  names  remem- 
bered, so  they  were  soon  forgotten.  They  died 
when  Jut  was  a  small  boy,  and  no  one  knew  just 
how  he  had  been  able  to  keep  alive.  Some  of  the 
women  gave  him  scraps  to  eat  when  there  was 
anything  left  from  their  own  meals.  The  men  paid 
little  attention  to  him,  and  bigger  and  better-fed 
boys  treated  him  with  the  unthinking  cruelty  of 
young  animals.  They  jeered  at  him  because  he  was 
small  and  mocked  his  lameness,  for  one  of  his  legs 
was  shorter  than  the  other.  They  would  not  let 
him  join  with  them  in  games  which  he  could  play. 
He  could  not  keep  up  with  them  on  their  hunting 
trips,  even  if  they  had  been  willing  to  have  him  go. 
Some  of  the  village  bullies  would  throw  stones  at 
him  to  see  him  hobble  away. 

So  it  was  that  Jut  lived  a  very  hard  life  and 
came  more  and  more  to  creep  off  by  himself.  He 
was  that  saddest  of  all  creatures,  a  boy  without  a 
friend,  if  we  except  Saxa,  who  had  often  given  him 
food  and  shelter.  Very  early  he  learned  to  set 
179 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

traps  such  as  the  hunters  of  the  village  made,  and 
he  became  so  deft  in  making  them  and  so  cunning 
in  setting  them  that  he  went  hungry  less  and  less 
often,  and  sometimes  had  a  wood  hen  or  a  young 
fawn  to  leave  at  the  hut  of  Saxa.  With  more  and 
better  food  he  became  stronger,  and  finally,  when 
a  big  boy  who  had  tormented  him  for  years  came 
nearer  than  usual,  he  was  surprised  to  be  caught 
in  a  grip  like  that  qf  a  young  cave  bear,  and  when 
he  finally  got  free  and  could  run  out  of  Jut's  reach, 
he  had  such  a  pulpy  and  battered  look  that  his  own 
mother  did  not  know  him.  After  that  Jut  was 
treated  with  more  respect,  but  not  with  more  affec- 
tion. He  grew  more  and  more  bitter,  more  and 
more  lonely.  If  it  had  not  been  for  the  kind 
Saxa,  no  tie  would  have  held  him  to  the  village. 
As  it  was,  he  left  the  village  for  long  periods, 
but  no  one  noticed  his  going  or  his  coming.  When 
the  villagers  thought  of  him,  which  was  not  often, 
they  said,  "  He  is  an  ugly  boy  and  likes  to  be  by 
himself."  But  all  the  time  Jut  was  starving  for 
comradeship,  and  he  still  haunted  the  village  in 
the  hope  that  he  might  pick  up  some  crumbs  of 
friendship. 

At  last,  when  he  was  almost  a  man,  he  went  off, 
planning  never  to  return.  He  took  all  his  posses- 
sions, and  they  made  a  very  small  load.  There  were 
his  weapons,  a  skin  which  served  as  a  pouch  by 
day  and  a  blanket  at  night,  and  a  rude  clay  dish 
given  him  by  little  Senna,  the  granddaughter  of 
Suta,  which  he  cherished  more  than  his  best  bow, 
1 80 


because  it  was  the  only  thing  which  had  ever  been 
given  to  him.  It  was  merely  a  child's  plaything; 
he  could  have  made  a  much  better  one  for  himself, 
but  he  guarded  it  with  jealous  care  and  would  use 
nothing  else.  He  told  himself  bitterly  that  if  Senna 
had  been  as  old  as  the  girls  who  laughed  at  him 
because  he  was  lame  and  avoided  him,  she  would 
not  have  given  it  to  him ;  and  still  he  cared  for  it. 

For  days  he  traveled  northward,  following  the 
winding  river  till  it  became  a  brook.  He  went 
slowly,  for  he  was  lame  and  his  leg  pained  him 
much.  Often  he  halted,  half  minded  to  go  back, 
but  what  was  the  use?  The  thing  he  sought  was 
not  there. 

One  night,  as  he  lay  brooding  in  lonely  misery 
by  the  fire,  which  he  had  to  keep  constantly  alight 
to  drive  away  dangerous  prowlers,  he  heard  a  low, 
whining  bark,  so  low  that  he  thought  for  a  while 
it  was  far,  far  away.  Then  he  became  curious  and 
sat  up  to  listen  more  carefully.  No,  it  was  close 
by.  He  got  up  and  carefully  followed  the  sound, 
firmly  grasping  his  stone  axe  in  his  hands.  In  a  few 
paces  he  came  upon  a  little  wolf  cub  which  had 
been  terribly  mauled  by  some  animal,  perhaps  a  wild- 
cat. One  of  its  hind  legs  was  helpless  and  trailed 
after  him,  and  it  was  too  weak  to  get  away,  even 
from  the  lame  boy.  If  Jut  had  not  been  so  lonely, 
he  would  have  killed  the  wolf  cub  without  a 
thought.  Or  it  may  be  that  the  helpless  leg  of 
the  little  beast  appealed  to  some  hidden  spring  of 
sympathy.  At  any  rate,  he  picked  up  the  cub,  care- 
181 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

fully  avoiding  its  sharp  teeth,  and  took  him  back 
to  the  fire. 

At  first  the  little  wolf  struggled  feebly  to  get 
away  from  the  terrifying  glow,  but  Jut  held  him 
where  the  warmth  reached  him  and  he  became  more 
quiet.  Then,  seeing  that  the  creature  was  almost 
starved,  he  gave  him  something  to  eat.  Even  in  his 
frenzy  of  hunger  the  wolf  watched  the  man  cub 
with  curious  eyes,  expecting  to  have  the  food 
snatched  from  him  as  his  brother  had  done  in  the 
den,  when  his  mother  had  brought  them  food.  But 
Jut  did  not  do  it.  When  he  had  eaten  his  fill, 
the  cub  grew  very  sleepy  and  the  fire  was  very 
warm,  and  Jut's  side  was  a  very  cosy  place  to 
nestle  against.  So  the  lonely  wolf  cub  and  the 
lonely  man  cub  curled  up  by  the  fire,  and  each  was 
less  lonely  because  of  the  other. 

The  next  morning  Jut  fed  the  wolf  again  and 
carefully  bound  up  the  crippled  leg,  talking  to  him 
all  the  time  as  if  he  could  understand.  Little  by 
little  the  wolf  found  that  the  boy's  hand  was  always 
kind  and  that  it  gave  food.  Even  though  his  leg 
ached  and  his  wounds  were  painful,  his  stomach  was 
full  and  he  was  warm,  and  perhaps  he  was  more 
comfortable  than  he  had  ever  been  in  his  short  life 
before. 

For  several  days  Jut  did  not  change  his  camp, 
and  the  pup  grew  strong  with  astonishing  rapidity. 
One  night  he  chewed  off  the  strips  of  hide  which 
bound  his  leg  and  the  next  morning  he  walked  on 
all  fours.  Jut  lay  watching  him,  expecting  him  to 
182 


THE   STORY   OF   LUP 

» 

run  off  into  the  woods  any  moment.  Sometimes  he 
would  run  away  to  the  stream  for  a  drink  or  to 
investigate  some  new  noise,  but  each  time  he  came 
back  and  crouched  on  his  haunches,  watching  his 
new  friend.  Evidently  he  preferred  him  to  the 
pack  with  which  he  had  had  to  fight  for  every 
morsel  of  food.  That  day  Jut  went  on,  and  Lup 
followed,  at  first  limping  like  his  new  master,  but 
soon  circling  about  him,  going  five  miles  to  his  one. 
But  he  rarely  wandered  beyond  the  call  of  Jut; 
when  he  did,  his  sharp  nose  had  no  difficulty  in 
picking  up  the  pungent  man-trail. 

And  Lup  became  Jut's  first  friend.  They  hunted 
together.  Lup's  nose  told  him  where  the  game  was, 
Jut's  arrow  brought  it  down,  and  they  both  shared 
in  the  kill.  It  was  better  than  hunting  with  the 
pack.  As  they  sat  about  the  fire,  Jut  would  talk 
to  him  as  if  he  had  been  a  man,  and  Lup  liked 
to  hear  the  sound  of  his  voice  and  would  listen  with 
winking  eye  and  wagging  tail.  And  Lup  learned 
many  things  by  living  with  the  man  hunter.  He 
learned  to  wait  when  he  had  tracked  the  game  till 
his  lame  master  could  come  up  and  shoot  it.  He 
learned  to  drive  it  where  his  master  was  waiting,  to 
come  at  his  master's  whistle.  And  Jut  taught  him 
some  things  which  he  would  much  rather  not  have 
learned. 

The  partnership  was  good  for  both.    They  rarely 

went  hungry.     Lup  was  legs  to  Jut,  and  Jut  was 

hands  and  brain  to  Lup.     They  both  thrived.     Jut 

found  a  cave  overlooking  a  lake  in  a  place  where 

183 


AROUND    THE    FIRE 

the  game  was  plentiful  and  made  it  his  first  home. 
Lup  shared  it  with  him  and  grew  and  grew  until 
his  master  thought  he  would  never  stop  growing. 
His  shoulders  were  nearly  as  high  as  Jut's  hips, 
and  he  weighed  nearly  as  much  as  his  master.  He 
was  larger  than  any  wolf  Jut  had  ever  seen.  Some- 
times he  met  straggling  wolves  and  he  fought  them 
impartially.  At  first  he  held  his  own ;  then  he 
fought  to  a  finish  any  who  dared  to  challenge 
him. 

One  day  they  had  been  hunting  a  deer  according 
to  their  usual  fashion.  Jut  took  his  place  by  a 
runway  through  a  gorge,  and  Lup  chased  the  deer 
,toward  it.  But  they  were  not  the  only  hunters  in 
the  field.  While  Jut  was  intently  watching  for 
the  deer,  a  cave  bear,  who  had  his  den  in  the 
gorge,  waked  up  hungry  and  came  out  to  forage. 
To  his  surprise  he  found  game  almost  in  front  of 
his  den.  With  marvelous  quietness  for  so  big  a 
creature,  he  crept  up  behind  Jut,  and  was  within 
a  few  feet  of  him  before  he  was  heard.  All  the 
advantage  was  with  the  bear.  He  had  almost 
cornered  Jut,  who  was  not  much  of  a  runner,  and 
a  bear,  clumsy  as  he  appears,  can  be  wonderfully 
swift  in  his  movements.  Jut  was  already  too  ex- 
perienced a  hunter  not  to  know  that  his  chances 
of  escape  were  few;  still,  with  the  blind  instinct  of 
self-preservation,  he  shot  his  arrow  at  the  approach- 
ing bear  and  climbed  the  nearest  tree.  The  arrow 
scarcely  pricked  the  tough  hide  of  the  bear,  who 
was  so  close  to  Jut  that  his  great  claw  tore  one 
184 


THE    STORY   OF   LUP 

of  the  man's  legs  as  he  dragged  himself  out  of  reach 
for  a  moment. 

The  bear  was  prepared  to  climb  the  tree,  if  neces- 
sary, but  he  was  in  no  hurry.  He  tore  the  trunk 
of  the  tree  with  his  teeth,  and  then  stretched  up 
to  his  full  length  and  scratched  off  great  strips  of 
bark  with  his  cruel  claws.  Next  he  hugged  the 
tree,  which  seemed  smaller  every  moment  to  Jut, 
and  shook  it  with  terrifying  fury.  Finally  the  bear, 
tired  of  the  joys  of  anticipation,  started  to  climb 
the  tree,  and  Jut  knew  that  there  was  no  hope. 
Just  at  that  moment  the  wild  hunting  cry  of  a 
wolf  echoed  through  the  gorge,  and  a  deer  rushed 
by.  It  attracted  the  attention  of  the  bear,  who 
slipped  down  the  trunk  of  the  tree  to  see  what  was 
going  on.  For  a  moment  the  wolf  and  the  bear 
confronted  each  other  with  curiosity.  For  ages 
there  had  been  a  kind  of  truce  between  the  two. 
Neither  found  the  other  satisfactory  game. 

When  Ke  saw  Lup,  Jut  gave  a  shrill  whistle  by 
which  he  was  accustomed  to  call  him,  and  the  wolf 
looked  up  and  saw  his  master  in  the  tree  above 
him.  The  old  instinct  to  let  the  bear  alone  held 
him  back;  the  new  habit  of  obedience  to  the  call 
of  Jut  pulled  him  forward,  strengthened  by  the 
love  for  the  man  who  had  been  his  friend.  The 
new  habit  and  the  new  affection  won.  With  a 
savage  snarl  he  dashed  at  the  bear's  haunches,  dart- 
ing aside  to  avoid  the  terrible  swing  of  the  paw. 
Round  and  round  they  spun,  the  surprised  bear 
growing  angrier  every  moment.  By  degrees  Lup 
185 


drew  the  bear  away  from  the  foot  of  the  tree.  As 
nimble  as  a  monkey,  Jut  slipped  down  the  tree  and 
recovered  his  weapons  which  he  had  dropped.  He 
could  easily  have  escaped,  leaving  Lup  to  take  his 
chances,  but  no  thought  of  it  entered  his  mind  when 
he  saw  that  the  bear  had  driven  Lup  into  a  crevasse 
from  which  he  could  not  escape  without  coming 
within  reach  of  the  deadly  paws.  Lup  had  stood 
by  the  man ;  he  would  stand  by  Lup. 

Stealing  up  behind  the  bear,  whose  sole  atten- 
tion was  now  given  to  the  wolf,  Jut  thrust  his 
long  bronze  knife  into  his  side,  just  behind  the  ribs, 
leaping  back  to  avoid  the  swing  of  the  maddened 
beast.  With  a  roar  of  pain,  the  bear  rushed  at  Jut. 
Lup  slashed  his  quarters  with  his  knife-like  teeth. 
As  the  bear  turned  on  the  wolf,  Jut  struck  him  a 
terrible  blow  with  his  bronze  axe,  cutting  a  great 
gash  in  his  shoulder  and  partly  crippling  him.  Back 
and  forth,  round  and  round  the  strange  battle  waged. 
Sometimes  the  bear  seemed  to  be  getting  the  best  of 
it ;  once  Lup  ventured  too  near,  and  one  of  the 
flying  paws  ripped  his  flank  from  shoulder  to  thigh. 
Jut  also  had  his  leg  terribly  torn.  But  it  was  two 
to  one.  The  bear  grew  weak  from  loss  of  blood. 
More  and  more  often  the  sharp  axe  slashed  him. 
At  last,  as  he  reared  high  to  plunge  at  Lup,  Jut 
severed  one  of  the  great  tendons  in  his  hind  leg. 
The  bear  toppled  over  on  his  side,  no  longer  able 
to  make  his  terrible  rushes.  Then  Jut  waited  for 
his  opportunity  and  drove  his  spear  to  the  bear's 
heart,  and  the  great  fight  was  over. 
1 86 


THE    STORY   OF   LUP 

After  the  frenzy  of  battle,  the  victors  became 
conscious  of  their  own  wounds.  Jut  felt  faint 
from  loss  of  blood,  and  Lup  crept  up  to  him, 
whining  dismally  and  licking  his  dripping  flank. 
With  the  skill  which  men  learned  quickly  in  the 
time  when  wounds  were  every-day  affairs,  Jut 
dressed  the  wounds,  taking  as  much  care  with  Lup's 
as  he  did  with  his  own,  and  the  wolf  licked  the 
man's  hand  with  low  whines  of  gratitude.  From 
that  day  they  were  blood  brothers. 

At  the  season  of  the  year  when  the  wolves  run 
in  pairs,  Lup  grew  restless.  Sometimes  in  the 
dead  of  night  the  strange  mating  call  of  the  wolf 
bitch  could  be  heard  in  the  distance,  and  Lup  would 
lift  his  nose  high  in  the  air  and  give  an  answering 
call  which  made  the  surrounding  hills  echo.  One 
night  he  slipped  away,  disobeying  the  call  of  his 
master,  and  was  gone  for  two  days.  Jut  thought 
he  had  gone  for  good,  and  began  to  realize  what 
Lup  had  meant  to  him.  He  was  able  to  kill  very 
little  game  alone,  and  he  was  more  lonely  than 
he  had  ever  been  in  his  life  before. 

But  on  the  morning  of  the  third  day  he  heard 
with  delight  Lup's  shrill  bark,  and  the  big  gray 
wolf  trotted  up  the  path  to  the  cave,  waving  his 
brush  proudly  and  turning  every  few  yards  to  look 
behind  him.  Jut  saw  nothing  and  eagerly  called 
him,  but  Lup  paid  no  heed  and  finally  turned  and 
went  out  of  sight.  Again  he  appeared,  barking 
sharply,  but  clearly  with  friendly  intent.  This  time 
there  trotted,  a  few  yards  behind  him,  a  wolf  bitch 
187 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

only  a  little  smaller  than  himself.  She  was  very 
suspicious  and  turned  tail  again  and  again  and 
returned  to  the  bush.  But  each  time  Lup  coaxed 
her  back  until  at  last  she  came  near  enough  for 
Jut  to  toss  her  an  inviting  bone. 

By  degrees  she  grew  wonted  to  the  man  friend 
of  Lup,  and  ate  with  them  and  hunted  with  them, 
but  she  never  would  sleep  in  the  cave  with  the 
man.  By  and  by  she  found  a  small  den  not  far 
from  the  cave,  in  a  spot  which  Jut  could  not 
reach.  Then  she  stopped  hunting,  and  Lup  hunted 
for  her  and  would  even  take  the  bones  which  Jut 
gave  him  to  the  den  of  his  mate.  After  several 
weeks  Lup  and  his  mate  came  to  the  cave,  followed 
by  two  round  rolling  pups.  The  pups  were  sus- 
picious at  first,  but  soon  found  the  man  friend  very 
good  company.  He  gave  them  even  better  morsels 
to  eat  than  their  mother,  and  he  knew  how  to  scratch 
their  heads  and  sides  in  a  way  that  felt  uncom- 
monly good. 

So  Lup  became  the  friend  of  Jut  and  the  father 
of  those  who  in  every  land  and  age  came  to  share 
man's  work,  his  pleasure,  and  his  pain. 


1 88 


THE   WOOING   OF    SENNA 


XV.  THE  WOOING  OF  SENNA 

FOR  a  number  of  years  Jut  lived  by  himself, 
seeking  no  other  company  than  that  of  his 
family  of  wolf  dogs,  and  he  grew  to  be  a  powerful 
man,  even  though  he  was  lame.  He  had  plenty  to 
eat,  and  in  his  caves  were  the  finest  skins.  No  one 
had  finer  weapons  than  he  or  knew  how  to  use  them 
more  skillfully.  He  was  rich,  according  to  the 
standards  of  his  time,  and  yet  he  was  not  satisfied. 
Even  the  comradeship  of  Lup  and  his  descendants 
did  not  satisfy  his  craving  for  friends.  By  and  by 
the  desire  to  see  those  of  his  own  kind  became  so 
strong  that  he  began  to  extend  his  hunting  trips 
more  and  more  in  the  direction  of  Angwang.  Some- 
times he  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  villagers  from  some 
hilltop.  The  villagers  soon  found  traces  of  the 
hunting  of  Jut  and  his  four-footed  followers.  They 
found  the  trail  of  a  pack  of  wolves  mingled  with 
that  of  a  man.  When  that  had  happened  before, 
the  trail  of  the  man  ended,  but  here  they  found  the 
trails  mingled  day  after  day.  So  they  told  tales 
of  the  wolf  man,  which  grew  with  the  telling  and 
made  the  children  afraid  to  go  far  from  the  village. 
One  hunter  went  so  far  as  to  say  that  he  had  seen 
the  wolf  rnao  hunting  with  the  pack  and  that  he 
191 


AROUND    THE    FIRE 

went  on  all  fours  and  had  hair  all  over  him  like 
a  wolf. 

One  day,  as  Jut  was  hunting  nearer  the  village 
than  usual,  the  pack  treed  something.  As  he  ap- 
proached the  tree  which  they  surrounded,  he  noticed 
that  their  cry  had  a  curious  note  of  uncertainty  such 
as  he  had  never  heard  except  when  they  had  hap- 
pened to  meet  with  some  of  their  own  wild  cousins. 
But  a  wolf  could  not  climb  a  tree.  What  could  it 
be  ?  When  he  was  near  enough,  he  saw  Lup  stand- 
ing at  the  trunk,  looking  up  into  the  branches  and 
barking  sharply,  but  wagging  his  tail  at  the  same 
time  and  looking  back  over  his  shoulder  now  and 
then,  as  if  to  assure  the  pack  that  this  was  something 
different  from  ordinary  game. 

When  Jut  reached  him,  the  big  wolf  dog  stopped 
barking  and  looked  up  at  his  master  inquiringly. 
And  this  was  what  Jut  saw.  Crouching  among  the 
branches  and  looking  down  on  him  with  frightened 
eyes,  was  a  young  woman.  For  a  moment  he  stared 
at  her  with  open  eyes  and  open-mouthed  astonish- 
ment. Then  he  knew  who  she  was.  This  was 
Senna,  a  granddaughter  of  Suta.  He  remembered 
how  kind  she  had  been  to  him  as  a  boy,  but  he  had 
not  expected  that  she  would  be  so  beautiful,  and 
he  had  almost  forgotten  how  to  talk  to  his  own 
kind,  so  he  simply  stared  and  stared. 

But  Senna's  face  changed  its  expression  very 
rapidly  from  fright  and  wonder  to  friendly  self- 
possession,  and  she  was  the  first  to  speak.  "  Why, 
you  are  Jut!  Why  doesn't  the  big  wolf  bite  you? 
192 


THE    WOOING    OF    SENNA 

Where  have  you  been?  How  big  you  have  grown! 
I  should  not  have  known  you  if  it  had  not  been 
for  your  lame  leg  —  and  your  eyes !  "  Jut  answered 
never  a  word,  only  stared  and  stared,  but  Senna 
did  not  seem  to  be  at  all  offended  and  talked  on. 
"  Oh,  I  know,  )TOU  are  the  wolf  man :  tell  me,  did 
the  Great  One  teach  you  how  to  make  the  wolf 
hunt  for  you  and  obey  you  ?  "  Still  not  speaking, 
Jut  whistled  for  Lup,  who  came  up  to  him  and 
wagged  his  tail,  while  his  master  stroked  his  head. 
A  new  light  came  into  the  girl's  face  as  she  looked 
at  the  two:  "  Oh,  it  must  be  wonderful  to  have  the 
Great  One  tell  you  a  secret.  He  has  spoken  to  no 
one  of  our  tribe  for  a  long  time,  and  my  grand- 
mother Suta  said  that  it  might  be  because  the 
villagers  had  not  been  kind  to  you  when  you  were 
a  boy." 

At  last  Jut  broke  his  long  silence,  and  what  he 
said  might  have  seemed  to  an  outsider  not  quite 
to  the  point,  though  Senna  did  not  seem  to  notice 
it.  "  I  have  the  little  clay  dish  you  made  me  and 
drink  out  of  it  every  day."  And  Senna  did  not 
seem  to  be  displeased,  for  she  said,  "  If  your  big 
gray  wolves  will  not  eat  me,  I  will  come  down 
so  that  we  can  talk  better."  From  which  it  will 
be  seen  that  Senna  had  the  kind  heart  of  her 
grandmother  Suta  and  the  busy  tongue  of  her 
grandfather  Wang.  And  Jut,  the  silent,  thought 
the  music  of  the  girl's  voice  sweeter  than  that  of 
the  woodland  songsters.  All  he  asked  was  a  long, 
long  time  to  listen.  And  Senna  seemed  to  be  de- 
J93 


AROUND    THE    FIRE 

lighted  to  have  so  appreciative  an  audience,  for,  if 
the  truth  must  be  told,  even  her  grandmother  some- 
times tired  of  her  chatter,  and  Wang  found  that 
she  interfered  with,  his  own  extended  monologues. 

So  Senna  slipped  down  the  tree,  and  the  great 
dogs  sniffed  at  her  curiously  but  with  approval  and 
lay  down  about  the  two  in  a  circle,  as  if  to  assure 
them  that  all  was  well.  And  Senna  sat  on  a  moss 
cushion  with  Jut  at  her  feet  and  talked  and  talked 
to  her  heart's  content,  while  Jut  listened  with  a 
growing  light  in  his  eyes  and  a  glow  at  his  heart. 
The  girl  told  him  all  the  news  of  the  village  and 
drew  from  him  his  own  story  bit  by  bit. 

Jut  was  lame,  but  to  Senna  he  was  the  most 
wonderful  man  she  had  ever  seen.  There  was  no 
young  man  in  the  village  who  had  a  face  like 
Jut's.  It  had  the  look  of  one  who  has  heard  the 
voice  of  the  Revealer  and  could  never  be  like  other 
men's.  And  there  was  no  man  in  the  village  with 
a  body  so  powerful  and  symmetrical  as  his.  What 
mattered  a  lame  leg?  It  simply  made  him  different. 
And  to  Jut  the  girl  seemed  to  give  tangible  shape 
to  all  the  vague  beauty  of  the  world  which  he  had 
only  dimly  sensed  before.  He  looked  up  into  the 
blue  sky  with  its  glory  of  sun-kissed  clouds  and  out 
upon  the  shimmering  waters  of  the  river  and  on  to 
the  blue  hills  beyond.  How  beautiful  they  were! 
Senna  was  more  beautiful  than  any  or  all.  But 
Jut  could  not  say  these  things  with  his  tongue.  For- 
tunately for  him,  his  face  was  eloquent,  and  Senna, 
looking  into  it,  could  read  his  thoughts. 
194 


As  the  evening  shadow  began  to  fall,  the  girl 
leaped  to  her  feet.  "  Now  I  must  go  to  the  vil- 
lage and  you  must  come  with  me."  As  Jut  hesi- 
tated, she  said,  "  Don't  you  know  that  one  to  whom 
the  Great  One  has  spoken  is  afraid  of  no  one  ?  " 
"  But  I  am  afraid  of  you,"  answered  Jut.  "  Oh, 
that  is  different.  Come  with  me."  So  Jut  followed 
her,  and  her  words  put  a  new  spirit  in  him,  and  as 
they  entered  the  village  he  bore  himself  like  a 
chief,  and  Senna  looked  at  him  with  eyes  shining 
with  pride. 

As  they  entered  Angwang,  the  villagers  were  too 
astonished  to  speak.  Senna  walked  proudly  by  the 
side  of  a  strange  chief,  though  he  seemed  of  their 
own  race.  He  was  lame,  but  his  weapons  and  every 
line  of  his  powerful  body  showed  him  to  be  a  mighty 
hunter.  But  at  the  sight  of  the  great  gray  wolves 
trotting  quietly  behind  him  and  obeying  not  merely 
his  voice  but  the  wave  of  his  hand,  awe  and  fear  were 
added  to  their  wonder.  As  Jut  looked  about  him, 
he  recognized  some  of  his  boyhood  tormentors.  He 
raised  his  head  more  proudly.  Lame  though  he  was, 
there  was  not  one  who  would  dare  withstand  him. 
And  Senna  led  him  to  the  home  of  Om,  the  chief. 

"  This,"  said  she,  "  is  Jut,  to  whom  the  Revealer 
has  shown  the  heart  of  the  wolf.  See,  they  obey 
him  as  the  tribesmen  obey  their  chief." 

At  a  sign  from  Jut  the  wolf  dogs  crouched  at 

his  feet,  waiting  his  commands  with  blinking  eyes 

and   wagging  tails.      Om   looked   at  him   in   silent 

amazement  for  a  moment  and  then  led  him  into  the 

195 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

hut  to  the  side  of  Oma,  the  aged  wise-woman. 
She  was  blind,  but  could  still  hear.  "  Mother,  the 
Keeper  of  Secrets  has  spoken  again.  He  has  spoken 
to  Jut,  the  boy  whom  no  one  cared  for  and  who 
fled  the  village.  Behind  him  come  six  wolves  who 
do  his  bidding  as  I  have  done  yours.  He  has  taken 
the  wolf  heart  out  of  them  and  put  in  its  place 
the  heart  of  a  man." 

With  the  help  of  Om,  Oma  rose  to  her  feet  and 
stretched  out  her  hand  toward  the  young  man. 
When  he  came  within  her  reach,  she  placed  her 
hand  on  his  head  and  then,  with  the  seeing  touch 
of  the  blind,  moved  her  hand  over  his  face  and 
over  his  great  muscles.  Then  she  spoke: 

"  My  heart  has  been  heavy  within  me  because 
the  Great  One  was  so  long  silent.  I  said  in  my 
heart,  '  He  is  angry  with  the  men  of  Angwang 
and  has  gone  to  the  country  beyond  the  sunsetting.' 
But  now  I  know  that  when  men  listen  he  speaks. 
Let  Jut  be  second  only  to  Om,  for  now  the  Re- 
vealer  has  come  back  to  Angwang." 

That  night  Om  brought  Jut  to  the  council  fire,  and 
he  sat  among  the  great  ones,  while  Om  told  his  story. 
And  if  there  had  been  any  ready  to  doubt  it,  there 
were  the  great  dogs  by  the  fire  ready  to  prove  it. 

And  Jut  took  Senna  to  his  own  cave,  and  she 
never  lacked  a  willing  listener.  For  when  Jut  was 
away,  the  old  gray  wolf  who  stayed  to  guard  her 
would  listen  with  comprehending  eye.  And  what 
more  does  any  eager  talker  want? 

196 


HUN,   HUNTER  OF  WHITE  MEN 


XVI.    HUN,   HUNTER  OF   WHITE 

MEN 

AND  Senna,  wife  of  Jut,  tamer  of  the  wolf, 
bore  many  sons  and  daughters.  The  first-born 
was  named  Senn,  and  he  had  many  strange  adven- 
tures, for  he  was  one  of  those  not  content  to  do  as 
the  fathers  had  done.  Even  as  a  boy  he  loved  to 
wander  farther  than  the  other  boys  dared  to  go. 
His  mother  was  very  anxious  about  him,  and  well 
she  might  be,  for  the  woods  were  not  a  very  safe 
playground.  But  his  father  said :  "  He  has  the  eye 
of  the  seeker  for  new  things.  The  Revealer  will 
watch  over  him."  So  Senn  roamed  farther  and 
farther,  and  wherever  he  went  he  was  followed  by 
a  big  wolf  dog,  Can,  grandson  of  Lup,  and  the 
boy  with  the  passion  for  wandering  was  saved,  even 
more  than  he  knew,  by  the  quick  ear,  keen  scent, 
and  courage  of  his  dog  friend. 

Senn  sometimes  took  other  boys  with  him,  but 
more  often  he  went  alone,  because  they  were  afraid 
to  go  where  he  wanted  to  go.  And  there  seemed  to 
be  no  end  to  his  hunger  to  explore  the  unknown. 
Just  as  Ulu  and  Ul  had  always  heard  the  call  of 
the  sea  and  the  West,  he  heard  the  call  of  the 
woods  and  the  East.  He  never  was  so  happy  as 
199 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

when  pushing  his  way  through  trackless  forests 
or  following  trails  made  by  wild  beasts.  When  he 
was  in  the  village,  he  was  always  restless,  and  his 
eyes  seemed  to  look  for  something  he  could  not 
find. 

Now  in  the  village  of  Angwang  there  was  an 
old  man  who  was  honored  by  all,  but  especially 
beloved  by  the  children.  His  name  was  Sagg,  and  he 
was  a  cripple,  so  that  he  could  not  hunt  with  the 
men  of  the  tribe,  but  he  had  a  wonderful  memory 
and  a  cunning  tongue.  He  had  stored  up  in  his  mind 
the  stories  of  the  adventures 'of  Ang  and  Sut  and 
the  other  great  men  of  the  tribe.  He  had  listened 
to  the  tales  which  Ulma  had  told  of  the  land  to  the 
east  and  south  from  which  she  had  been  stolen  by 
the  red  men,  a  land  where  men  built  huts  on  the 
waters  of  lakes,  like  beavers,  and  lived  in  constant 
fear  of  the  red  men. 

In  the  long  winter  evenings,  when  the  Angwangs 
hugged  the  fire,  Sagg  told  the  stories  over  and  over 
again,  but  no  one  tired  of  them.  Sometimes  he 
would  sing  them  in  a  monotonous  chant,  with  a 
chorus  in  which  they  all  joined.  On  feast  days 
some  of  the  young  men  would  act  the  adventures 
which  he  described.  No  one  listened  like  Senn,  and 
Sagg,  who,  like  Senna,  loved  a  good  listener,  told 
him  more  stories  and  stirred  his  imagination  and 
love  of  wandering. 

To  the  surprise  of  all  the  wise  ones  of  the  village 
Senn  grew  to  man's  size  and  strength.  He  had 
had  many  hair-breadth  escapes  and  had  many  scars 
200 


THE    HUNTER    OF   WHITE    MEN 

to  remind  him  of  them,  but  he  was  sound  and  fit 
for  anything,  which  was  fortunate,  as  we  shall 
see. 

Finally  he  tired  of  trips  which  always  ended  in 
a  return  to  the  village,  and  he  decided  to  take  his 
two  wolf  dogs,  sons  of  Can,  and  his  finest  weapons, 
and  visit  the  people  of  Ulma,  the  Lake  Dwellers. 
All  that  Ulma  had  known  or  that  Sagg  could  tell 
him  was  that  they  lived  far  to  the  south  and  east, 
on  lakes  which  had  great  mountains  about  them, 
mountains  whose  tops  were  lost  in  the  clouds.  That 
they  lived  in  constant  dread  of  the  red  men  and 
savage  beasts  he  also  knew,  but  cared  not,  for  Senn 
was  one  of  those  whom  danger  draws,  as  food  the 
hungry  man. 

When  he  left  the  village,  equipped  for  his  long 
and  perilous  journey  with  his  two  great  dogs  be- 
hind him,  it  was  so  early  that  no  one  was  stirring 
but  the  old  story-teller,  Sagg.  Though  he  had 
fanned  the  boy's  smoldering  ambition  to  flame,  he 
now  dreaded  to  have  him  go  and  tried  to  persuade 
him  to  stay,  reminding  him  of  all  the  dangers  which 
he  knew  and  inventing  more  for  the  occasion,  but 
all  to  no  purpose. 

For  five  days  Senn  journeyed  over  ground  which 
he  had  been  over  before.  It  was  wild  and  dan- 
gerous enough,  but  more  or  less  familiar.  On  the 
sixth  day  he  came  to  a  river  broader  than  any  he 
had  ever  seen  before.  On  the  southern  horizon 
he  saw  for  the  first  time  the  outline  of  the  great 
mountains  whose  tops  were  lost  in  the  clouds. 

201 


AROUND   THE   FIRE 

Under  them  must  be  the  dwellings  of  the  people 
of  Ulma. 

Though  the  river  was  broad  and  deep,  Senn  did 
not  hesitate.  He  found  a  dry  log  on  the  shore 
and  lashed  his  weapons  to  it,  and  then  pushed  it 
out  into  the  stream,  swimming  behind  it.  For  a 
moment  the  dogs,  Chen  and  Chut,  whined  and 
shivered  on  the  bank,  but,  seeing  their  master  push- 
ing steadily  out  into  the  stream,  they  leaped  in  and 
followed  him. 

Though  man  and  dogs  were  powerful  swimmers, 
the  strong  current  swept  them  more  rapidly  down 
the  stream  than  they  were  able  to  swim  across  it. 
Before  they  had  much  more  than  reached  mid- 
stream they  had  been  carried  around  a  bend  in  the 
river.  Here  the  river  suddenly  narrowed  between 
high  and  rugged  banks  and  became  a  roaring,  foam- 
ing rapid.  Senn  felt  the  pull  of  the  rushing  water 
almost  as  soon  as  he  saw  its  white  foam.  For  a 
few  moments  he  tried  to  struggle  against  it,  but  soon 
saw  that  it  was  useless.  The  only  thing  for  him  to 
do  was  to  drift  through  the  rapids  in  the  wake  of 
the  log  on  which  his  weapons  were  lashed,  hoping 
that  it  would  protect  him  from  the  rocks. 

Just  as  he  was  entering  the  rapids  he  turned  to 
call  his  dogs,  and  saw  just  behind  him  another 
swimmer  with  such  a  look  of  terror  on  his  face 
as  he  had  never  seen  before,  and  it  needed  but  a 
glance  to  see  why.  Just  behind  him  the  two  great 
wolf  dogs  were  converging  on  him  and  in  a  few 
strokes  would  be  on  top  of  him.  Before  him  were 
202 


THE    HUNTER   OF   WHITE    MEN 

the  rapids.  In  the  man's  mouth  was  a  long  knife. 
With  that  wonderful  power  of  noting  details  so 
often  possessed  by  those  in  great  peril,  he  saw  that 
the  man's  mouth  was  cut  from  gripping  the  knife 
too  tightly  in  his  fright.  Evidently  the  man  had 
followed  him,  not  noticing  the  dogs,  expecting  to 
take  him  by  surprise. 

At  that  instant  the  rapids  swallowed  him  up. 
Mouth  and  nose  and  eyes  were  filled  with  water 
and  flying  spume.  He  was  enveloped  in  noises 
more  thunderous  than  a  hundred  storms.  He  was 
tossed  about  like  a  dry  twig,  out  of  the  water,  be- 
neath it,  gasping,  struggling,  but  holding  to  his  log 
with  the  blind  instinct  of  self-preservation.  Soon  he 
lost  all  consciousness  of  where  he  was  and  what 
was  happening  to  him,  but  his  mind  rushed  back 
over  the  details  of  his  past  life,  finding  no  detail 
too  small.  Then  came  blackness,  a  sense  of  falling 
out  of  the  world  into  space,  and  then  a  blessed  still- 
ness, like  the  sleep  of  childhood. 

When  he  slowly  came  back  to  consciousness,  he 
was  not  sure  but  that  he  had  passed  to  the  spirit 
world,  all  was  so  still.  Slowly  and  painfully  he 
opened  his  eyes.  There  was  the  blue  sky  above  him 
with  its  flocks  of  white-winged  clouds.  Perhaps  — 
But  he  was  too  tired  to  look  and  see.  Then  the 
sound  of  a  low  whine  penetrated  his  ear,  and  he 
dimly  felt  the  scraping  of  a  hot  tongue  on  his  face. 
With  great  effort  he  opened  his  hand  and  closed  it 
on  wet  sand.  Little  by  little  he  came  back  to  his 
world  and  himself.  He  turned  over  and  propped 
203 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

his  head  on  his  arm  and  looked  about  him.  He  lay 
on  a  sand  beach,  with  his  feet  in  the  water.  On 
either  side  of  him  crouched  Chen  and  Chut,  bat- 
tered and  bleeding,  but  very  much  alive  and  anxiously 
licking  his  face  and  hands. 

With  the  unsteadiness  of  a  drunken  man  rousing 
from  a  stupor  he  sat  up  and  looked  about  him. 
Though  all  was  quiet  near  him,  he  could  still  hear 
the  roar  of  the  rapids  in  the  distance.  Then  he 
remembered.  He  had  come  through  the  mad  water 
alive.  Odin  must  love  him,  for  he  had  saved  him 
from  the  cruel  spirits  of  the  river.  And  the  other 
man?  At  the  thought  he  staggered  to  his  feet; 
A  little  below  him  he  saw  the  log  which  had  been 
his  lifeboat  slowly  drifting  by  the  shore.  Painfully 
he  crawled  after  it,  and  when  he  reached  it,  found 
to  his  delight  that  his  weapons  were  still  lashed  to 
it.  Their  possession  seemed  to  make  him  a  man 
again  instead  of  a  snail.  The  blood  began  to  flow 
and  warmed  his  chilled  body.  Courage  came  back 
to  him  and  with  it  a  consuming  hunger.  Higher  up 
on  the  bank  some  wild  berries  attracted  him,  and 
he  climbed  up  and  ate  greedily,  growing  hungrier 
with  every  mouthful. 

As  he  was  trying  in  vain  to  satisfy  his  hunger, 
his  attention  was  drawn  to  a  small  island  of  rocks 
some  twenty  feet  from  the  shore  and  lying  partly 
in  the  water  and  partly  on  a  shelving  rock  —  what 
was  it  —  a  log  or  a  man  ?  He  rubbed  his  eyes  and 
looked  more  carefully.  It  was  the  body  of  a  man, 
probably  the  man  who  had  followed  him  into  the 
204 


THE    HUNTER    OF    WHITE    MEN 

rapids.  He  must  be  dead ;  let  him  lie  until  the 
vultures  or  fishes  picked  his  bones.  But  if  he  should 
come  back  to  life  as  he  had  done?  Was  it  safe  to 
have  such  an  enemy  following  him? 

Taking  his  bronze  axe,  he  went  down  to  the 
shore  and  waded  out  to  the  rocks.  The  body  lay 
with  the  head  just  raised  above  the  level  of  the 
water.  The  face  was  like  bronze  in  color,  the  hair 
straight  and  black,  and  the  mouth  was  bloody.  Yes, 
it  was  the  man  who  had  planned  to  stab  him  in 
the  back  as  he  swam.  He  must  be  dead,  but  he 
would  take  no  chances.  As  he  raised  his  axe  to 
strike,  something  seemed  to  hold  his  hand.  To  kill 
a  man  in  fair  fight  was  one  thing.  If  Odin  had 
spared  his  life,  why  should  Senn  take  it? 

At  that  moment  the  man  groaned  and  opened  his 
eyes.  Something  in  their  look  or  it  may  be  some- 
thing in  his  own  heart  changed  Senn's  purpose.  Won- 
dering why  he  did  it,  he  drew  the  battered  and  half- 
drowned  man  out  on  the  rocks.  He  was  bleeding 
to  death  from  a  terrible  wound  in  the  leg,  and  Senn 
stopped  the  flow  of  blood  by  binding  tightly  about 
it  a  strip  of  hide.  After  a  while  the  man  revived  and 
looked  with  wonder  and  fear  at  the  man  who  bent 
over  him.  Then,  seeing  what  had  been  done  for 
him,  the  fear  gave  way  to  a  larger  wonder.  That 
the  man  whom  he  had  tried  to  kill  should  be  tend- 
ing him  and  saving  his  life  seemed  at  first  too 
strange  to  be  believed,  but  as  Senn  continued  to 
bind  up  his  wounds,  there  could  be  no  mistake,  and 
a  new  look  came  into  his  eyes  —  a  look  like  that 
205 


AROUND   THE   FIRE 

which  the  great  dogs  gave  their  master  when  he 
caressed  them,  a  look  strangely  out  of  place  on  his 
rugged  face.  Seeing  it,  Senn  'knew  that  he  had 
made  a  friend  out  of  a  murderous  enemy. 

When  Senn  had  finished  dressing  the  red  man's 
wounds,  his  own  empty  stomach  began  to  cry  for 
food.  The  problem  was,  what  to  do  with  the 
one  who  plainly  could  not  do  for  himself.  He  must 
get  him  to  the  shore  and  then  hunt  for  food.  With 
great  difficulty  Senn  dragged  the  man,  who  was  very 
large,  into  the  water,  and  half  carried,  half  towed 
him  to  the  shore.  Finding  a  sheltered  place,  he  made 
him  as  comfortable  as  possible  under  the  circum- 
stances, took  up  his  weapons,  and  called  the  dogs. 

Just  as  he  was  going,  the  man  beckoned  to  him 
and  asked  for  a  knife,  by  easily  understood  signs. 
For  a  moment  Senn  hesitated.  Why  give  a  knife 
to  a  man  who  had  attempted  his  life,  and  yet  he 
knew  what  it  meant  to  be  left  alone  in  the  woods 
of  that  age  without  a  weapon  for  defence.  So  he 
gave  it  to  him.  The  man  seized  it  with  a  look  of 
gratitude  which  was  like  the  breaking  of  sunlight 
through  a  black  cloud,  and  Senn  was  glad  that  he 
had  not  hesitated  to  give  it.  When  he  came  to  reason 
about  it  later,  he  knew  that  his  instinct  was  right. 
If  the  red  man  was  to  be  with  him  even  for  a  short 
time,  he  must  be  a  friend,  not  an  enemy,  and  if  a 
.friend  he  must  be  armed,  so  that  he  could  play  a 
man's  part. 

Senn  himself  was  faint  from  hunger,  and  Chen 
and  Chut  were  wasp-stomached.  The  woods  were 
206 


THE    HUNTER   OF   WHITE    MEN 

full  of  small  game,  which  he  could  have  shot  if 
his  bow  string  had  been  dry.  He  might  starve  be- 
fore he  could  catch  anything  in  traps.  His  only 
hope  was  to  find  a  deer  runway,  and  spear  one 
as  his  dogs  drove  it  past.  He  had  not  gone  very  far 
before  he  found  a  path  leading  down  to  the  river 
bank  showing  the  fresh  tracks  of  deer  and  other 
animals.  Taking  his  place  in  a  thicket  hard  by  the 
path  and  so  located  that  his  scent  would  not  be 
carried  to  any  animals  that  came  that  way,  he  sig- 
naled to  the  dogs  to  beat  up  the  game,  beginning 
with  the  river. 

It  was  not  long  before  he  heard  the  cry  of  the 
dogs  and  then  a  chorus  of  squealing  and  grunting 
which  came  nearer  every  moment.  He  did  not  need 
to  be  told  that  it  was  a  herd  of  wild  hogs.  For 
a  moment  he  hesitated.  The  wild  boar  was  one 
of  the  most  dangerous  and  most  dreaded  animals  of 
the  wild.  Hunters  rarely  ventured  to  attack  them 
alone,  and  even  when  they  hunted  them  in  groups, 
with  every  possible  advantage  on  their  side,  some 
unlucky  hunter  was  very  likely  to  pay  the  death 
penalty.  But  hunger  made  Senn  desperate,  and  he 
held  his  ground. 

In  a  moment  the  herd  was  on  him.  The  first  one 
to  come  abreast  of  his  ambush  was  a  young  sow, 
and  he  thrust  his  javelin  into  its  side  with  all  his 
might.  Then  he  dashed  away,  hoping  to  avoid  the 
rush  of  those  which  followed,  but  he  was  not  quick 
enough.  A  savage  old  tusker  caught  sight  of  him 
and  charged  wjth  incredible  speed  and  fury.  The 
207 


AROUND    THE    FIRE 

dogs  were  at  some  distance  and  had  troubles  of 
their  own,  so  his  only  hope  was  to  reach  the  river 
and  dash  in,  as  the  boar  has  an  unaccountable  aver- 
sion to  water. 

He  tore  through  the  brush  at  top  speed,  but  the 
boar  gained  on  him  at  every  leap.  Still  he  would 
have  reached  the  water  safely  if  he  had  not  tripped 
on  a  vine  just  at  the  river  bank.  As  he  fell,  the 
boar  rushed  over  him  and  he  felt  his  hot  breath 
as  he  passed.  With  a  squeal  of  fury  the  boar 
wheeled  to  rip  up  his  fallen  enemy  with  his  tusks, 
which  were  as  long  and  sharp  as  knives.  Scnn  had 
no  hope,  but  tried  to  roll  to  one  side.  He  was 
so  near  the  edge  of  the  bank  that  he  slid  over  and 
fell  several  feet,  the  boar  falling  almost  on  top  of 
him.  For  a  moment  he  was  stunned  by  the  fall. 
When  he  came  to  himself,  the  boar  lay  beside  him 
in  his  death  agony,  the  blood  spouting  from  a  great 
gash  just  over  his  heart.  The  red  man  knelt  be- 
side him  with  the  dripping  knife  in  his  hand  and 
with  a  look  of  savage  satisfaction  on  his  face.  He 
had  paid  his  debt  to  the  white  man. 

When  Senn  looked  about  him,  he  saw  that  they 
had  fallen  almost  on  top  of  the  red  man's  resting 
place.  With  the  instinct  of  his  people,  he  saw 
something  more  in  it  than  chance,  and  lifting  his 
face  to  the  sky,  he  said :  "  O  Great  One,  Thou  hast 
twice  held  the  hand  of  the  spinner  who  would  have 
cut  the  thread  of  my  life.  If  it  is  that  I  may  do 
some  great  thing,  show  it  to  me!" 

And  the  red  man,  seeing  that  he  prayed,  bowed 
208 


THE    HUNTER   OF   WHITE    MEN 

his  head  also,  and  said  something  in  a  language 
which  Senn  could  not  understand.  Then  they  lit 
a  fire,  Senn  gathering  dry  moss  and  sticks  and  the 
red  men  in  lighting  it,  rubbed  two  willow  sticks  in 
;i  way  that  Senn  had  never  seen  before.  The  men 
and  dogs  feasted.  They  ate  as  if  they  never  ex- 
pected to  be  able  to  eat  again. 

That  night  they  lay  in  a  sheltered  place  under 
the  bank,  watched  over  by  the  two  dogs.  It  did  not 
take  long  to  recover  from  his  wounds  and  exhaustion 
in  the  days  when  man  was  young,  and  Senn  woke 
to  hud  himself  nearly  as  strong  as  ever.  But  it 
would  be  a  few  days  before  the  red  man  could  walk 
far.  As  Senn  pondered  what  he  should  do,  the  red 
man,  who  seemed  to  read  his  thoughts,  made  eager 
signs  to  him.  He  pointed  to  his  leg,  and  then  held 
up  twro  fingers  to  the  sun  and  made  the  sign  of 
walking.  In  two  days  he  could  go  on.  Then  he 
pointed  to  the  dogs  and  to  himself,  then  he  took 
Senn's  hand  and  laid  it  first  on  his  bowed  head  and 
then  on  his  heart.  He  would  follow  Senn  like  the 
dogs  and  be  as  obedient  and  faithful.  Though  Senn 
had  something  of  the  instinctive  aversion  of  his  race 
to  the  red  man,  he  still  wanted  a  companion  in  his 
venture.  Then  he  remembered  the  story  of  Rang. 
Perhaps  this  man  was  like  Rang.  He  would  make 
him  a  blood  brother,  according  to  the  custom  of  his 
people. 

So  Senn  took  a  small  flint  knife  from  his  belt 
and  scraped  the  flesh  of  his  arm  till  it  bled  a  little. 
Then  he  took  the  arm  of  the  red  man  and  did  the 
209 


AROUND    THE    FIRE 

same.  Next  he  mingled  the  blood  of  the  red  man 
with  his  own  in  the  palm  of  his  left  hand.  "  Now," 
said  he,  raising  his  right  hand  to  the  sky,  "  we  are 
brothers.  One  blood,  one  life.  Let  Odin  bear 
witness." 

Though  the  red  man  did  not  understand  the 
words,  he  did  understand  the  meaning  of  the  blood 
rite  and  raised  his  right  hand  to  the  sky  in  assent. 
Then  he  pointed  to  himself  and  said,  "  Hun,"  and 
Senn  knew  that  it  was  the  name  of  his  new  brother. 


210 


THE    LAKE   DWELLERS 


XVII.  THE   LAKE  DWELLERS 

AFTER  two  days  Hun  was  well  enough  to  take 
the  trail  again,  and  Senn  tried  to  tell  him 
by  signs  what  it  was  he  sought.  He  took  him  to 
the  river's  edge  and  made  a  rough  hut  on  sticks 
driven  in  the  shallow  water;  then  he  pointed  ques- 
tioningly  to  the  south  and  east.  For  some  time  Hun 
studied  it  without  looking  at  Senn,  who  wondered 
whether  he  understood,  but  finally  he  turned  and 
nodded  his  head  in  assent ;  then  he  made  Senn 
understand  by  signs  that  he  had  seen  the  lake 
dwellings  and  that  he  could  lead  him  to  them. 
It  was  not  till  later  that  Senn  knew  that  Hun  had 
understood  him  from  the  first  and  why  he  had  hesi- 
tated to  make  it  known. 

On  the  morning  of  the  third  day  they  started 
southward,  Hun  taking  the  lead.  They  went  by 
ways  so  different  from  those  which  Senn  would 
have  chosen  that  he  sometimes  hesitated  to  follow, 
but  when  Hun  pointed  to  the  scar  of  brotherhood 
on  his  arm  he  felt  ashamed  of  his  suspicions. 

On  the  evening  of  the  eighth  day  they  drew  near 

the  great  mountains,  and  Senn  was  filled  with  awe. 

Their  snow-capped  peaks  reached  up  into  the  clouds. 

This  must  be  the  home  of  Odin  and  his  wild  hunts- 

213 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

men.  A  distant  roar  told  of  a  thunder-storm  rn 
the  mountains.  Thor  must  be  there  with  his  terrible 
hammer.  He  felt  a  new  sense  of  fear.  Perhaps 
it  was  not  best  for  men  to  come  too  near  to  the 
hunting  grounds  of  the  Great  Ones.  As  he  looked 
at  Hun,  he  saw  that  he  too  seemed  afraid,  but  it 
evidently  was  not  of  the  powers,  of  the  mountains. 
He  seemed  to  fear  some  hidden  enemy  at  every 
bend  of  the  trail,  which,  as  Senn  noticed  for  the 
first  time,  had  been  made  with  human  feet. 

After  they  had  reached  the  top  of  a  hill,  which 
they  had  climbed  with  more  than  usual  caution, 
they  looked  down  upon  a  valley  in  whose  center 
was  the  most  beautiful  lake  Senn  had  ever  seen, 
while  to  the  south  the  giant  mountains  towered 
heavenward.  The  mountains  were  still  gilded  and 
silvered  by  the  light  of  the  setting  sun,  but  the 
shadows  had  already  fallen  on  the  valley.  In  the 
dim  light  it  was  yet  possible  to  see  the  outline  of  a 
village  perched  on  piles  at  the  western  end  of  the  lake. 

But  Senn  soon  noticed  that  Hun  was  not  looking 
at  the  village  —  he  was  evidently  quite  familiar  with 
it  —  but  was  looking  intently  up  the  valley  toward 
the  east.  At  last  he  found  what  he  sought,  and, 
laying  hold  of  Senn's  arm,  pointed  to  an  open 
meadow  across  which  shadowy  figures  were  moving. 
Senn  remembered  the  story  of  Rang  and  the  Red 
Men  and  knew  that  they  must  be  men  on  horse- 
back, and  many  of  them. 

After  Senn  had  watched  them  for  some  moments 
in  wonder,  Hun  began  to  talk  excitedly  in  his  own 
214 


THE    LAKE    DWELLERS 

tongue,  a  thing  which  he  had  not  done  before,  ges- 
ticulating as  he  spoke.  He  pointed  to  the  horse- 
men and  then  to  himself.  Then  he  imitated  the 
motions  of  a  man  on  horseback,  and  Senn  knew 
that  these  must  be  Hun's  people.  When  Hun 
pointed  to  the  lake  village  and  then  went  through 
the  motions  of  stabbing  and  slashing  with  his  knife, 
he  understood  the  situation  as  well  as  if  Hun's 
language  had  been  his.  Hun's  people  were  about  to 
make  a  raid  on  the  village  on  the  lake.  Unless 
the  villagers  were  warned  in  time,  the  old  story 
of  plunder  and  murder  would  be  repeated,  and  the 
red  men  would  carry  off  many  maidens  as  Ulma  had 
been  carried  away  in  the  days  of  Rang. 

These  villagers,  thought  Senn,  are  the  people  of 
Ulma  and  so  my  people.  I  have  been  sent  by  the 
All  Seer  to  warn  them,  but  what  of  Hun?  Would 
he  stand  with  him  or  his  own  people  ?  By  signs 
he  questioned  Hun.  He  was  going  to  the  village. 
Would  Hun  go  with  him  or  to  his  tribe?  But 
Hun  had  evidently  made  his  decision  before.  He 
pointed  to  the  scar  of  blood  brotherhood  on  his 
arm  and  of  the  scarcely  healed  wound  on  his  leg, 
and  without  a  word  started  down  the  hill-side 
toward  the  village. 

It  was  nearly  dark  by  this  time,  and  as  Senn 
stumbled  along,  he  realized  that  he  never  could  have 
found  his  way  to  the  village  alone  in  the  dark. 
After  what  seemed  hours  of  aimless  wandering  in 
trackless  woods,  they  came  out  upon  the  shore  of 
the  lake  near  the  village.  Clearly  the  lake  dwellers 
215 


AROUND    THE    FIRE 

had  no  suspicion  of  danger.  All  was  quiet.  They 
had  not  even  taken  the  precaution  to  pull  in  the 
draw  which  connected  a  slender  bridge  with  the 
land.  A  solitary  watchman  dozed  over  the  railing. 
Evidently  he  considered  his  duty  a  mere  matter 
of  form. 

Senn  hesitated  for  a  moment  how  to  make  his 
presence  and  friendly  intention  known ;  then  he 
turned  to  Hun  for  a  suggestion  as  he  had  got  in  the 
habit  of  doing,  but  the  red  man  had  gone  without 
a  sound,  leaving  him  alone.  Cautiously  approaching 
the  bridge,  he  whistled  softly  and  then  louder,  but 
the  sentinel  still  dozed.  Some  one  had  heard,  how- 
ever, for  he  heard  footsteps  on  the  bridge.  Soon 
there  appeared  from  the  shadows  the  figure  of  a 
girl,  who  came  rapidly  on,  paying  no  attention  to 
the  sleeping  watchman.  Evidently  she  thought  the 
whistle  a  signal  from  some  one  she  knew.  When 
she  came  to  the  draw  and  saw  no  one,  she  hesi- 
tated, and  Senn  softly  whistled  again  and  slowly 
approached.  When  he  was  near  enough  so  that 
the  girl  could  see  that  he  was  a  stranger,  she  gave 
a  suppressed  cry  and  started  to  run  back,  but  not 
before  she  had  seen  that  Senn  had  thrown  his  spear 
on  the  ground  and  was  making  the  sign  of  peace. 
Perhaps  she  noted  also  that  Senn  was  young  and  like 
her  own  people,  though  bigger  and  more  powerful. 

Having  run  a  few  steps  with  the  apparent  inten- 
tion of  waking  the  sentinel,  she  seemed  to  think 
better  of  it  and  turned  and  looked  again  at  Senn, 
who  had  come  still  nearer.  She  did  not  seem  to 
216 


THE    LAKE    DWELLERS 

be  as  much  frightened  as  before,  and  this  time  only 
took  a  step  in  retreat  before  turning  again  and 
challenging  him  with  questioning  eyes.  As  for  Senn, 
he  forgot  for  the  moment  his  errand.  So  Ulma  must 
have  looked  in  the  time  of  his  grandfathers,  only 
not  so  beautiful.  Then  he  remembered,  and  spoke 
to  her  in  his  own  language,  using  only  the  shortest 
words  and  speaking  very  slowly.  The  look  of  grow- 
ing terror  in  her  face  showed  that  she  knew  what 
danger  threatened  them. 

Beckoning  to  Senn  to  follow  her,  she  fled  from 
the  bridge,  waking  the  watchman  as  she  passed  with 
two  words  which  sounded  to  Senn  like  the  name  of 
the  red  men  in  his  own  language,  and  which  startled 
him  into  instant  action  as  if  he  had  been  struck 
with  a  whip.  As  Senn  followed  the  girl,  he  heard 
the  creaking  of  the  slender  draw  as  it  was  being 
hastily  pulled  in,  and  the  whining  of  Chen  and 
Chut,  who  had  been  left  behind.  More  than  once 
he  nearly  fell  in  his  attempt  to  keep  up  with  the 
young  girl  in  her  rapid  retreat.  After  several  turns 
she  brought  him  to  the  entrance  of  the  largest  hut 
in  the  village,  and,  giving  a  shrill  call,  pulled  him 
through  a  door  so  low  and  narrow  that  the  young 
giant  had  great  difficulty 'in  crowding  in. 

If  he  had  had  time  to  think,  he  would  have  hesi- 
tated to  call  on  a  strange  chief  in  such  uncere- 
monious manner,  for  in  those  days  the  man  who 
came  suddenly  was  counted  an  enemy,  but  the  girl 
gave  him  no  time,  and  she  had  the  way  of  one  who 
has  always  been  obeyed.  After  his  eyes  had  become 
217 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

wonted  to  the  dim  light  of  the  interior,  which  was 
furnished  by  a  single  flickering  torch,  he  saw  an 
old  man  seated  on  a  rush  mat.  His  legs  were 
crumpled  under  him  and  evidently  useless,  and  his 
back  terribly  hunched,  so  that  it  seemed  almost  as 
if  the  man  had  been  crushed  into  the  position  he 
was  in  by  some  great  weight  falling  upon  him. 
He  was  a  cripple  and  such  a  cripple  as  rarely  sur- 
vived in  the  grim  conditions  of  the  long  ago.  But 
the  head  was  massive  and  finely  formed  and  the 
face  that  of  a  ruler  of  men.  Here  was  a  man  who 
had  ruled  by  the  power  of  his  brain  and  not  by  the 
power  of  his  hand.  Though  he  was  a  crippled 
dwarf,  Senn  did  not  need  to  be  told  that  he  was 
a  chief  and  the  girl  his  daughter.  He  was  old 
and  she  young.  He  was  a  cripple,  she  splendid  in 
her  supple  strength,  but  there  were  the  same  lines 
of  strength  in  the  faces  of  both. 

Hurriedly  the  girl  told  her  story,  the  old  chief 
looking  first  at  her  and  then  at  the  young  man 
behind  her.  Senn  noted  that  his  face,  notwith- 
standing his  surprise  and  the  terrible  tidings  which 
his  daughter  was  bringing  him,  never  lost  its  com- 
posure. When  the  girl  had  finished,  he  gave  her 
a  few  hurried  commands  and  sent  her  out  to  arouse 
the  village,  and  then  he  turned  to  Senn  and  looked 
at  him  with  eyes  that  took  note  of  everything  from 
the  crown  of  his  head  to  the  soles  of  his  feet  and 
seemed  to  read  his  most  hidden  thoughts.  Then 
he  spoke  in  words  which  Senn  did  not  understand, 
but  which  had  a  familiar  sound,  and  which,  with 
218 


THE    LAKE    DWELLERS 

the  gestures  accompanying  them,  conveyed  some 
definite  ideas.  Senn  knew  that  he  was  asked  to  re- 
assert, on  his  honor  as  a  man  and  with  the  fear  of 
the  gods  upon  him,  that  his  tidings  were  true;  he 
knew  that  the  old  chief  wanted  to  know  if  he  would 
fight  with  them  when  the  red  men  came.  So  Senn 
put  his  left  hand  over  his  heart  and  raised  his  right 
to  the  heavens  and  called  Odin  to  bear  witness  that 
he  spoke  the  truth  and  that  he  would  fight  for  the 
villagers  as  if  they  were  his  own  people.  Even 
before  the  chief  ceased  speaking  to  Senn,  the  village 
about  them  began  to  hum  like  a  hive  of  angry  bees. 
Seta  was  the  voice  of  the  girl's  father,  and  all  obeyed 
her  as  if  she  had  been  their  queen.  When  Senn 
joined  her  at  the  direction  of  the  chief,  she  was 
giving  orders  to  put  the  village  in  readiness  for 
a  siege.  Following  the  motion  of  her  hand,  Senn 
joined  a  group  of  men  who  were  to  tear  down  the 
bridge  that  connected  the  village  with  the  shore. 
He  had  never  obeyed  a  woman's  direction  before, 
at  least  since  he  was  a  child,  but  every  one  obeyed 
her  as  if  nothing  else  were  possible. 

At  first  the  villagers  looked  at  Senn  with  some 
suspicion,  but  when  they  saw  that  his  great  strength 
enabled  him  to  do  the  work  of  two  men  and  that 
he  did  not  spare  himself,  they  accepted  him  as  one 
of  themselves,  and  Seta,  as  she  went  to  and  fro, 
carrying  the  commands  of  her  father,  watched  the 
labors  of  the  young  man  with  growing  approval. 

The  men  worked  with  feverish  haste,  and  before 
the  first  gray  of  morning  the  preparations  for  an 
219 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

attack  or  a  siege  were  complete.  The  bridge  had 
been  destroyed,  barricades  of  timber  had  been  placed 
on  the  shore  side  of  the  runways  connecting  the 
houses,  and  the  walls  and  roofs  of  the  huts,  which 
were  covered  with  rushes,  had  been  soaked  with 
water,  so  that  they  could  not  be  set  on  fire  by 
burning  arrows. 

All  through  the  night  there  had  been  no  sign  of 
the  enemy  and  the  villagers  grew  tired  and  sus- 
picious. Who  was  this  stranger?  Who  knew  that 
he  was  not  making  sport  of  them?  Senn  was  con- 
scious of  many  dark  and  angry  looks,  and  he  began 
to  wonder  what  his  own  fortune  would  be  if  the 
red  men  did  not  come.  Perhaps  they  were  not 
planning  to  attack  the  village  at  all.  Then  Seta 
would  think  him  a  liar,  and  that  troubled  him  more 
than  the  angry  looks  of  the  men. 

Some  of  the  workers  had  slipped  away  to  their 
huts  when  the  cry  of  a  wolf,  taken  up  at  once  by 
his  mate,  broke  the  stillness  of  the  shore.  Senn 
knew  at  once  that  it  was  the  cry  of  Chen  and  Chut 
whom  he  had  left  behind  him  on  the  shore.  He 
knew  also  what  the  cry  meant.  It  was  not  the 
hunting  cry,  but  the  cry  of  challenge  and  warning. 
The  red  men  were  coming.  He  turned  to  find 
Seta  by  his  side,  looking  at  him  with  anxious  ques- 
tioning. He  pointed  to  the  shore,  and  they  listened. 
The  baying  of  the  wolf  dogs  ceased  for  a  moment, 
and  they  could  hear  plainly  the  muffled  footsteps 
of  many  men  and  horses.  Then  shadowy  figures 
crept  out  of  the  woods  and  made  their  way  to  where 

220 


the  bridge  had  been.  There  they  stopped,  in  evident 
perplexity  and  surprise.  No  bridge  was  there,  and 
the  fierce  barking  of  the  dogs  disturbed  them.  They 
hesitated  for  a  few  moments  and  then  went  back 
into  the  woods  as  quietly  as  they  had  come. 

But  the  villagers  knew  their  old  enemies  too 
well  to  fancy  that  this  was  the  end  of  it.  There 
was  no  more  sleep  that  night,  and  the  morning 
found  every  one  alert.  Just  at  daybreak  a  band  of 
horsemen  filed  out  of  the  woods  and  lined  up  on 
the  shore.  There  were  several  hundreds  of  them, 
and  a  more  savage-looking  group  of  men  could  not 
be  imagined.  At  a  signal  from  their  chief  they 
charged  up  and  down  the  shore  in  front  of  the  vil- 
lage, waving  their  spears  in  the  air  and  yelling  like 
demons.  Sometimes  the  more  daring  ones  would 
swim  their  horses  to  within  bow-shot  of  the  village. 
It  needed  no  imagination  to  picture  what  would 
have  happened  if  the  Huns  had  found  the  bridge 
in  place,  the  draw  down,  and  the  watchman  asleep. 
Even  now  terror  was  plainly  to  be.  seen,  not  merely 
in  the  faces  of  the  women  and  children,  but  also 
of  the  men  as  well.  It  was  true  that  they  did  not 
need  to  fear  starvation,  for  a  net  let  down  from 
a  trap  door  in  the  middle  of  their  huts  would  be 
filled  with  fish.  The  thatch  of  their  huts  was 
soaked  so  that  they  could  not  be  set  on  fire,  but  one 
never  could  tell  what  the  savage  Huns  would  do. 

At  last  the  mad  warriors  tired  of  their  cruel 
game,  and  a  messenger  swam  his  horse  out  to  within 
speaking  distance  of  the  village.  At  a  sign  from 

221 


AROUND    THE    FIRE 

Seta  four  men  brought  the  chief  from  his  hut  to 
where  he  could  hear  what  the  messenger  had  to 
say.  And  this  was  the  message  of  the  red  men: 
"  For  longer  than  the  oldest  can  remember  the  lake 
dwellers  have  paid  tribute  to  the  red  men,  for  the 
fish  eaters  cannot  stand  against  the  eaters  of  meat, 
but  you  have  forgotten  the  ancient  custom.  We  find 
your  village  closed  against  us.  But  do  not  think 
that  you  can  escape  us  by  tearing  down  your  bridge. 
Give  us  the  ancient  tribute,  or  we  will  destroy  your 
village,  kill  every  man  of  you,  and  take  your  women 
with  us."  All  this  was  said,  not  in  words,  but  in 
signs  which  no  one  could  mistake. 

At  once  a  group  of  men  gathered  about  the  old 
chief,  and  Senn  could  tell  by  their  eager  gestures 
that  some  of  them  were  for  yielding  to  the  demands 
of  the  red  men,  but  he  shook  his  head  and  pointed 
to  Seta  with  a  look  that  could  not  be  misunderstood. 
She  was  to  be  part  of  the  tribute.  A  sudden  frenzy 
seized  Senn.  Had  these  men  no  more  courage  than 
the  fish  which  they  ate?  He  leaped  up  in  a  fury 
of  surprise  and  disgust.  Some  of  the  women  had 
already  begun  to  pile  up  on  the  runways  their 
choicest  belongings  to  bribe  the  red  men.  Senn 
dashed  in  among  them,  sweeping  their  proposed  trib- 
ute aside  with  his  feet  and,  waving  his  great  axe 
above  his  head,  gave  the  war-cry  of  his  tribe.  In- 
stantly the  tide  of  feeling  turned.  The  timid  were 
shamed  and  the  courageous  heartened.  The  face  of 
the  old  chief  shone  with  a  new  hope.  "  The  young 
man  will  do  what  I  would  do  if  it  were  not  for 

222 


THE    LAKE    DWELLERS 

this  broken  body.  See,  he  has  the  strength  of  Thor, 
and  his  axe  is  like  the  hammer  of  the  thunderer." 
And  Seta  saw  all  that  Senn  did,  and  he  seemed  to 
her  as  wonderful  as  the  god  himself,  but  she  was 
glad  that  he  was  not  a  god,  for  then  —  But  there 
was  no  time  for  thinking.  The  red  men,  seeing 
their  messenger  scorned,  were  swimming  their  horses 
toward  the  village.  The  women  and  children  hid 
in  the  huts,  and  the  men  crouched  behind  the  logs 
on  the  runways. 

At  the  command  of  Sed,  the  old  chief,  they  did 
not  shoot  their  arrows  till  the  swimmers  were  well 
within  reach ;  then  they  poured  a  deadly  fire  orr 
them.  The  bow  strings  of  many  of  the  Huns  were 
wet,  and  they  could  not  shoot  to  advantage  from 
the  backs  of  swimming  horses,  so  they  were  soon 
compelled  to  retreat  to  the  shore,  leaving  some 
of  their  number  to  feed  the  fishes.  The  villagers 
were  wild  with  delight,  thinking  that  they  had 
stood  off  the  red  men  and  that  they  would  not  dare 
attack  again,  but  Senn  had  been  with  Hun  long 
enough  to  know  that  the  red  men  were  not  to 
be  stopped  as  easily  as  this.  He  showed  Sed  that 
the  men  on  the  shore  were  not  getting  ready  to 
retreat  but  to  make  a  new  attack.  A  fire  had  swept 
over  the  lake  shore  some  time  before  and  there 
were  many  dry  logs  in  the  woods.  Some  men  were 
dragging  them  to  the  shore  with  astonishing  rapidity, 
while  others  constructed  rude  rafts  with  a  shelter 
of  logs  in  front.  This  time  the  forces  were  to  be 
more  evenly  matched. 

223 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

Before  noon  some  twenty  large  rafts  had  been  con- 
structed. This  time  the  villagers  must  stand  off  an 
attack  from  boats  manned  by  twice  as  many  men 
as  there  were  in  the  village.  The  besiegers  formed 
a  half-circle  with  their  rafts  and  slowly  closed  in 
'on  their  enemy.  The  villagers  shot  their  arrows 
as  before,  but  few  reached  their  mark,  and  the 
rafts  came  steadily  on.  Soon  the  red  men  were 
almost  under  the  scaffolding  which  connected  the 
huts.  Here  the  villagers  had  the  advantage  for 
a  moment,  for  they  could  shoot  down  on  the  be- 
siegers, but  in  doing  so  they  had  to  expose  them- 
selves. Then  the  terrible  cries  of  the  wounded 
and  dying  mingled  with  the  war-cries  of  both  red 
men  and  white.  Senn  fought  with  the  courage  of 
his  race,  but  Sed  noted  with  approval  that  he  did 
not  fight  blindly. 

With  a  terrible  sweep  of  his  bronze  axe,  Senn  had 
just  cleared  the  railing  of  an  unprotected  runway 
of  red  men,  who  were  clambering  over,  when  a  shrill 
call  reached  his  ear  above  the  din  of  battle.  It  was 
a  cry  like  that  of  a  great  fishhawk  to  his  mate  as 
he  is  about  to  plunge  after  his  victim.  It  was  the 
call  of  Hun  and  it  came  from  high  up  on  the  bank. 
He  looked  up,  and  there  stood  Hun  on  a  projecting 
rock,  pointing  excitedly  to  something  behind  Senn. 
Senn  turned  instantly,  but  none  too  soon.  The  chief 
of  the  red  men  with  a  few  of  his  most  daring  fol- 
lowers had  paddled  their  raft  behind  the  village,  and 
while  the  villagers  were  warding  off  the  attack  in 
front,  had  made  a  safe  landing  and  were  dashing 
224 


THE    LAKE    DWELLERS 

down  a  narrow  runway  to  attack  them  in  the 
rear. 

A  moment  more,  and  the  story  of  Senn  would 
have  ended  here,  but  the  warning  call  of  Hun  had 
given  him  a  chance.  With  a  great  cry  Senn  hurled 
himself  at  the  new  enemy,  and  Seta  gave  the  alarm. 
Fortunately  the  runway  was  narrow  and  only  the 
leader  could  reach  him.  For  a  moment  the  two  men 
hailed  blows  on  each  other  with  fury  enough  to 
have  killed  a  dozen  men,  but  the  red  man  was  no 
match  for  the  young  giant  in  an  axe  duel,  and  a 
blow  like  that  of  Thor  himself  swept  him  from 
the  narrow  bridge  into  the  water.  The  man  behind 
him  made  a  few  half-hearted  strokes  and  followed 
his  leader.  The  other  men  turned  and  fled,  swim- 
ming for  their  lives,  but  to  no  purpose  as  they  were 
easy  marks  for  the  village  bowmen. 

The  death  of  the  leader  of  the  red  men  and  the 
failure  of  the  attack  in  the  rear  turned  the  tide  of 
battle,  and  the  besiegers  tried  to  get  away  from  the 
hornet's  nest  as  best  they  might.  They  tried  to 
paddle  their  clumsy  rafts  to  the  shore,  keeping  the 
log  bulwarks  between  them  and  the  villagers'  deadly 
fire.  But  it  was  not  easily  done.  A  strong  wind 
had  sprung  up,  blowing  off  shore,  and  many  of 
the  rafts  were  blown  back  into  the  range  of  the 
arrows,  notwithstanding  the  frantic  efforts  of  the 
paddlers.  Those  that  reached  the  shore  mounted 
their  horses  and  fled  as  if  they  did  not  mean  to 
stop  before  reaching  the  sun-rising.  And  they  had 
need  to  hurry,  for  the  villagers,  intoxicated  with 
225 


AROUND    THE    FIRE 

their  success,  manned  their  boats  and  pursued  the 
stragglers  to  the  shore,  while  Senn  and  some  of  the 
young  men  followed  the  trail  of  retreat  into  the 
woods. 

They  found  there  a  number  of  horses  whose  riders 
had  not  come  back,  and  they  led  them  in  triumph 
to  the  shore  and  tied  them  where  all  could  see.  As 
they  stood  there,  Chen  and  Chut  came  rushing  up 
to  their  master  with  loud  barks  of  welcome.  For 
a  moment  all  was  confusion.  Some  of  the  horses 
bolted,  and  the  men  plunged  into  the  water  and 
started  to  swim  for  the  village.  But  when  they 
saw  that  the  great  wolves  did  not  tear  Senn,  but 
groveled  at  his  feet,  they  were  astonished  beyond 
measure.  Perhaps  this  was  one  of  the  huntsmen 
of  Odin  whom  he  had  sent  to  be  their  deliverer. 
Then  they  bowed  themselves  before  him  as  if  he 
were  a  god,  and  though  he  shook  his  head,  there 
were  many  who  believed  that  Odin  had  sent  him 
to  save  the  village  from  the  red  men. 

The  story  of  the  slaughter  of  the  red  men  must 
have  been  told  far  and  wide  in  the  east  country, 
for  as  long  as  Senn  lived,  and  he  lived  to  be  a  very 
old  man,  no  red  man  ever  dared  to  ask  tribute  of 
the  lake  dwellers. 

And  Senn  stayed  with  the  lake  dwellers  for  many 
days  and  was  taught  many  wonderful  things.  He 
learned  how  to  make  bone  needles,  how  to  make  a 
hut  and  thatch  it  so  that  the  rain  would  not  beat  in. 
He  learned  how  to  make  hooks  and  nets  and  to 
catch  the  most  luscious  fish.  By  and  by  he  grew 
226 


THE    LAKE    DWELLERS 

tired  of  fish  and  longed  for  the  old  home.  So  he 
took  Seta,  daughter  of  Sed,  and  brought  her  to  the 
village  of  Angwang,  and  they  made  a  hut  of  tree 
trunks  driven  in  the  ground,  with  a  thatched  roof. 
And  Hun,  who  could  not  go  back  to  his  own  people, 
came  and  lived  in  the  village,  and,  like  Rang,  taught 
the  children  of  the  village  and  especially  those  of 
Senn  and  Seta  all  the  wisdom  of  the  red  men,  so 
that  the  Angwangs  knew  more  than  any  other 
tribe,  and  they  grew  rich  and  numerous  and  became 
a  great  people. 


227 


HOW  MEN  FOUND  THE  GREAT  SPIRIT 


XVIII.   HOW  MEN   FOUND  THE 
GREAT  SPIRIT 

IN  the  olden  time  when  woods  covered  all  the  earth 
except  the  deserts  and  the  river  bottoms,  and  men 
lived  on  the  fruits  and  berries  they  found  and  the 
wild  animals  which  they  could  shoot  or  snare,  when 
they  dressed  in  skins  and  lived  in  caves,  there  was 
little  time  for  thought.  But  as  men  grew  stronger 
and  more  cunning  and  learned  how  to  live  together, 
they  had  more  time  to  think  and  more  mind  to  think 
with. 

Men  had  learned  many  things.  They  had  learned 
that  cold  weather  followed  hot,  and  spring,  winter; 
and  that  the  sun  got  up  in  the  morning  and  went 
to  bed  at  night.  They  saw  that  the  great  water  was 
kindly  when  the  sun  shone,  but  when  the  sun  hid 
its  face  and  the  wind  blew  upon  it,  it  grew  black 
and  angry  and  upset  their  canoes.  They  had  found 
that  knocking  flints  together  or  rubbing  dry  sticks 
would  light  the  dry  moss,  and  that  the  flames  which 
would  bring  back  summer  in  the  midst  of  winter 
and  day  in  the  midst  of  night  were  hungry  and 
must  be  fed,  and  when  they  escaped  devoured  the 
woods  and  only  the  water  could  stop  them. 

These  and  many  other  things  men  learned,  but  no 
231 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

one  knew  why  it  all  was  or  how  it  came  to  be.  Men 
began  to  wonder,  and  that  was  the  beginning  of  the 
path  which  led  to  the  Great  Spirit. 

In  the  ages  when  men  began  to  wonder  there  was 
born  a  boy  whose  name  was  Wo.1  As  he  lay  in 
his  mother's  arms,  she  loved  him  and  wondered, 
"  His  body  is  of  my  body,  but  whence  comes  the 
life  —  the  spirit  which  is  like  mine  and  yet  not 
like  it  ?  "  And  his  father,  seeing  the  wonder  in  the 
mother's  eyes,  said,  "Whence  came  he?"  And 
there  was  no  one  to  answer,  and  so  they  called  him 
Wo  to  remind  them  that  they  knew  not  whence 
he  came. 

As  Wo  grew  up,  he  was  stronger  and  swifter  of 
foot  than  an}'  of  his  tribe.  He  became  a  mighty 
hunter.  He  knew  the  ways  of  all  the  wild  things 
and  could  read  the  signs  of  the  seasons.  As  he  grew 
older,  they  made  him  a  chief  and  listened  while 
he  spoke  at  the  council  board,  but  Wo  was  not 
satisfied.  His  name  was  a  question,  and  questioning 
filled  his  mind. 

Whence  did  he  come?  Whither  was  he  going? 
Why  did  the  sun  rise  and  set?  Why  did  life 
burst  into  leaf  and  flower  with  the  coming  of  the 
spring?  Why  did  the  child  become  a  man  and  the 
man  grow  old  and  die? 

The  mystery  grew  upon  him  as  he  pondered.  In 
the  morning  he  stood  on  a  mountain  top  and  stretch- 
ing out  his  hands  cried,  "  Whence?";  at  night  he 
cried  to  the  moon,  "  Whither  ?  "  He  listened  to  the 

1  Wo  meant,  in  the  language  of  the  time,  "  whence." 
232 


THE   GREAT   SPIRIT 

soughing  of  the  wind  in  the  trees  and  to  the  song 
of  the  brook  and  tried  to  learn  their  language.  He 
peered  eagerly  into  the  eyes  of  little  children  and 
tried  to  read  the  mystery  of  life.  He  listened  at  the 
still  lips  of  the  dead,  waiting  for  them  to  tell  him 
whither  they  had  gone.  He  went  about  among  his 
fellows  silent  and  absorbed,  always  looking  for  the 
unseen  and  listening  for  the  unspoken.  He  sat  so 
long  silent  at  the  council  board  that  the  elders  ques- 
tioned him.  To  their  questioning  he  replied  like 
one  awakening  from  a  dream: 

"  Our  fathers  since  the  beginning  have  trailed  the 
beasts  of  the  wood.  There  is  none  so  cunning  as  the 
fox,  but  we  can  trail  him  to  his  lair.  Though  we 
are  weaker  than  the  great  bear  and  buffalo,  yet  by 
our  wisdom  we  overcome  them.  The  deer  is  more 
swift  of  foot,  but  by  craft  we  overtake  him.  We 
cannot  fly  like  a  bird,  but  we  snare  the  winged  one 
with  a  hair.  We  have  made  ourselves  many  cun- 
ning inventions  by  which  the  beasts,  the  trees,  the 
wind,  the  water  and  the  fire  become  our  servants. 

'  Then  we  speak  great  swelling  words :  How 
great  and  wise  we  are!  There  is  none  like  us  in 
the  air,  in  the  wood,  or  in  the  water!  But  the 
words  are  false.  Our  pride  is  like  that  of  a  partridge 
drumming  on  his  log  in  the  wood  before  the  fox 
leaps  upon  him.  Our  sight  is  like  that  of  the  mole 
burrowing  under  the  ground.  Our  wisdom  is  like 
a  drop  of  dew  upon  the  grass.  Our  ignorance  is  like 
the  great  water  which  no  eye  can  measure. 

"  Our  life  is  like  a  bird  coming  out  of  the  dark, 
233 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

fluttering  for  a  heart-beat  in  the  hut  and  then  going 
forth  into  the  dark  again.  No  one  can  tell  us 
whence  it  comes  or  whither  it  goes.  I  have  asked 
the  wise  men,  and  they  cannot  answer ;  I  have  lis- 
tened to  the  voice  of  the  trees  and  wind  and  water, 
but  I  do  not  know  their  tongue ;  I  have  questioned 
the  sun  and  the  moon  and  the  stars,  but  they  are 
silent. 

"  But  to-day,  in  the  silence  before  the  darkness 
gives  place  to  light,  I  seemed  to  hear  a  still  small 
voice  within  my  breast,  saying  to  me,  '  Wo,  the 
questioner,  rise  up  like  the  stag  from  his  lair ;  away, 
alone,  to  the  mountain  of  the  sun.  There  thou  shalt 
find  that  which  thou  seekest.' 

"  I  go,  but  if  I  fall  by  the  trail  another  will  take 
it  up.  If  I  find  the  answer,  I  will  return." 

Waiting  for  none,  Wo  left  the  council  of  his  tribe 
and  went  his  way  toward  the  mountain  of  the  sun. 
For  six  days  he  made  his  way  through  the  track- 
less woods,  guided  by  the  sun  by  day  and  the  stars 
by  night.  On  the  seventh  he  came  to  the  great 
mountain  —  the  mountain  of  the  sun,  on  whose 
top,  according  to  the  tradition  of  his  tribe,  the  sun 
rested  each  night.  All  day  long  he  climbed,  saying 
to  himself,  "  I  will  sleep  to-night  in  the  hut  of  the 
sun,  and  he  will  tell  me  whence  I  come  and  whither 
I  go." 

But    as    he    climbed,    the    sun    seemed    to    climb 

higher  and  higher.     As  he  neared  the  top,  a  cold 

cloud   settled   like   a   night   bird   on   the   mountain. 

Chilled   and    faint   with    hunger   and    fatigue,    Wo 

234 


THE   GREAT   SPIRIT 

struggled  on.  Just  at  sunset  he  reached  the  top 
of  the  mountain,  but  it  was  not  the  mountain  of 
the  sun,  for  many  days'  journey  to  the  west  the  sun 
was  sinking  in  the  Great  Water. 

A  bitter  cry  broke  from  Wo's  parched  lips.  His 
long  trail  was  useless.  There  was  no  answer  to  his 
questions.  The  sun  journeyed  farther  and  faster 
than  men  dreamed,  and  of  wood  and  waste  and 
water  there  was  no  end.  Overcome  with  misery 
and  weakness,  he  fell  upon  a  bed  of  moss  with  his 
back  toward  the  sunset  and  the  unknown. 

And  Wo  slept,  although  it  was  unlike  any  sleep 
he  had  ever  known  before,  and  as  he  slept  he 
dreamed.  He  was  alone  upon  the  mountain  waiting 
for  the  answer.  A  cloud  covered  the  mountain,  but 
all  was  silent.  A  mighty  wind  rent  the  cloud 
and  rushed  roaring  through  the  crags,  but  there 
was  no  voice  in  the  wind.  Thunder  pealed,  light- 
ning flashed,  but  he  whom  Wo  sought  was  not 
there. 

In  the  hush  that  followed  the  storm,  Wo  heard 
a  voice  low  and  quiet,  but  in  it  all  the  sounds  of 
earth  and  sky  seemed  to  mingle  —  the  song  of  the 
bird,  the  whispering  of  the  trees,  and  the  murmur- 
ing of  the  brook : 

"  Wo,  I  am  He  whom  thou  seekest ;  I  am  the 
Great  Spirit;  I  am  the  All-Father.  Ever  since  I 
made  man  of  the  dust  of  the  earth  and  so  child 
of  the  earth  and  brother  to  all  living,  and  breathed 
into  his  nostrils  the  breath  of  life,  thus  making  him 
my  son.  I  have  waited  for  a  seeker  who  should 
235 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

find  me.     In  the  fullness  of  time  thou  hast  come, 
Wo,  the  questioner,  to  the  Answerer. 

"  Thy  body  is  of  the  earth  and  to  earth  returns ; 
thy  spirit  is  mine ;  it  is  given  thee  for  a  space  to 
make  according  to  thy  will ;  then  it  returns  to  me 
better  or  worse  for  thy  making.  Thou  hast  found 
me  because  thy  heart  was  pure  and  thy  search  for 
me  tireless.  Go  back  to  thy  tribe  and  be  to  them 
the  Voice  of  the  Great  Spirit.  From  henceforth 
I  will  speak  to  thee  and  to  the  seekers  that  come 
after  thee  in  a  thousand  voices  and  appear  in  a  thou- 
sand shapes.  I  will  speak  in  the  voices  of  the  wood 
and  streams  and  of  those  you  love.  I  will  appear  to 
you  in  the  sun  by  day  and  in  the  stars  by  night. 
When  thy  people  and  mine  are  in  need  and  wish 
for  the  will  of  the  Great  Spirit,  then  shall  my  spirit 
brood  over  thine  and  the  words  that  thou  shalt 
speak  shall  be  my  words." 

And  Wo  awoke,  facing  the  east  and  the  rising 
sun.  His  body  was  warmed  by  its  rays.  A  great 
gladness  filled  his  soul.  He  had  sought  and  found, 
and  prayer  came  to  him  like  song  to  the  bird: 

"  O  Great  Spirit,  Father  of  my  spirit,  the  sun 
is  Thy  messenger,  but  Thou  art,  brighter  than  the 
sun.  Drive  Thou  the  darkness  before  me.  Be  Thou 
the  light  of  my  spirit." 

As  Wo  went  down  the  mountain  and  took  the  . 
journey  back   to  the  home  of  his  peoplefnisrace^^ 
shone,   andt  the  light  never  seemed   to  leave  it,  so 
that  men  called  him  "  He  of  the  shining  face." 

When  Wo  came  back  to  his  tribe,  all 
236 


THE   GREAT   SPIRIT 

his  face  knew  that  he  had  found  the  answer,  and 
they  gathered  again  about  the  council  fire  to  hear.  As 
Wo  stood  up  and  looked  into  the  eager  faces  in  the 
circle  of  the  fire,  he  remembered  that  the  Great 
Spirit  had  given  him  no  message  and  for  a  moment 
he  was  dumb.  Then  the  words  of  the  Great  Spirit 
came  to  him  again :  "  When  thy  people  and  mine 
shall  need  to  know  my  will,  my  spirit  shall  brood 
over  thine  and  the  words  that  thou  shalt  speak  shall 
be  my  words."  Looking  into  the  eager  faces  full 
of  longing  and  questioning,  his  spirit  moved  within 
him  and  he  spoke: 

"  I  went,  I  sought,  I  found  the  Great  Spirit,  who 
dwells  in  the  earth  as  your  spirits  dwell  in  your 
bodies.  It  is  from  Him  the  spirit  comes.  We  are 
His  children.  He  cares  for  us  more  than  a  mother 
for  the  child  at  her  breast,  or  the  father  for  the  son 
that  is  his  pride.  His  love  is  like  the  air  we  breathe ; 
it  is  about  us ;  it  is  within  us. 

;<  The  sun  is  the  sign  of  His  brightness,  the  sky 
of  His  greatness,  and  mother-love  and  father-love 
and  the  love  of  man  and  woman  are  the  signs  of  His 
love.  We  are  but  children ;  we  cannot  enter  into 
the  council  of  the  Great  Chief  until  we  have  been 
proved,  but  this  is  His  will,  that  we  love  one  an- 
other as  He  loves  us ;  that  we  bury  forever  the 
hatchet  of  hate;  that  no  man  shall  take  what  is 
not  his  own  and  the  strong  shall  help  the  weak." 
/^The  chiefs  did  not  wholly  understand  the  words 
/  of  Wo,  but  they  took  a  hatchet  and  buried  it  by  the 
fire,  saying,  "  Thus  bury  we  hate  between  man  and 

^— A  \  >     237 

J 


AROUND   THE    FIRE 

his  brother,"  and  they  took  an  acorn  and  put  it  in 
the  earth,  saying,  "  Thus  plant  we  the  love  of  the 
strong  for  the  weak."  And  it  became  the  custom 
of  the  tribe  that  the  great  council  in  the  spring 
should  bury  an  axe  and  plant  an  acorn. 

Every  morning  the  tribe  gathered  to  greet  the 
rising  sun,  and  with  right  hands  raised  and  left 
upon  their  hearts  prayed,  "  Great  Spirit,  hear  us ; 
guide  us  to-day ;  make  our  wills  Thy  will,  our  ways 
Thy  way." 

And  the  tribe  grew  stronger  and  greater  and  wiser 
than  all  the  other  tribes  of  men. 


238 


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